


Knives leave scars (inside the mind)

by SherlockianGirl14



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Angst, Depression, Established, M/M, Romance, SBB, Sabriel - Freeform, Sabriel Big Bang, Suicide Attempt, TW: Suicide, TW: mild domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-05-18 13:02:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 23,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5929402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockianGirl14/pseuds/SherlockianGirl14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Gabriel, life seems pointless. Well, his life, anyway. He's stuck in a boring job with no idea what he wants to do with himself. He lives at home at 22- if an absent father and big brothers at war can be called a home. He wants out. Sam has no idea that Gabriel feels this way. He’s happy. He’s studying law and already well on his way. He's thinking about moving out. He's in love. But when Gabriel decides to do something about his misery, can Sam save him? And will things ever really change for Gabriel?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work will be updated weekly, chapter by chapter. My tumblr is gabriels-horn-of-truth and the artist's is ashahtaylor. The individual link to the art is http://archiveofourown.org/works/5933170
> 
> Please be cautious of triggers- fanfiction is meant to be enjoyable, not to make you feel worse.  
> If any of these issues affect you personally, please seek help and don't face it alone. Face-to-face help is always better, but if you can't face it or don't know how to access it, please call one of these numbers (http://our-mentalhealthdirectory-world.tumblr.com/post/75438377623/hotline-materpost).
> 
> Enjoy!

“Happy birthday!” Cas called out, opening Gabriel’s door. The first thing Gabriel heard when waking up were Cas’ words; the first thing he felt was the air knocked out of him as the dog bounded into the room and leapt up onto Gabriel.  
He sat up with a gasp, immediately wide awake. Groaning, he flopped back against the bed, rolling his eyes as he pushed the small dog away from his chest and and onto the other side of the bed. Of course, it was fruitless. The jack russell jumped straight back up, licking his face this time. His tongue slid excitedly across Gabriel’s lips and he screwed his face up in disgust, wiping his mouth clean and pulling the dog into a firm hug in order to prevent any further assaults.  
“Morning, Cas,” he grumbled moodily, freeing one hand from Apollo’s belly and rubbing his eyes. Glancing behind his brother, he saw Anna smiling at him, two gifts in her arms- one poorly wrapped (hers) and one impeccable (Castiel’s- he always did have a perfectionist streak).  
The 16-year-old and the 12-year-old were the only two of his siblings to actually give a shit any longer. He doubted the others would even pass comment on it being Gabriel’s twenty-second, aside from silently handing him a card- if he was lucky. Lucifer would probably prank him and piss him off - Gabriel supposed he was no better himself, but it still irked him. Michael would boss him around in his usual way and Raphael would… Well. She probably wouldn't be home, but that wouldn’t be anything out of the norm either. She didn't feel like she exactly fit into the family, electing to spend most of her time with friends. Both Raphael and Anna were born as a result of affairs. No wonder mum and dad used to argue so much. It was a shock that she had ever put up with him at all.  
Of course, there wouldn’t be a word from his father. He’d been awol someplace for what felt like forever and Gabriel’s birthday wasn’t about to change that.  
Still, for the sake of his younger two siblings, he put on a smile, patting the side of his bed and shifting over in order to make room for them to sit down.  
“What's up, kiddos? What have you got for me? Better make it good, huh? I don't come cheap, you know!” he remarked. Castiel smiled and Anna laughed. As long as he could make them happy, he would be okay. He had to try to keep them smiling today. He owed them that much.  
It was then that he received a text message from Sam. He smiled to himself for a moment, eyes sparking with happiness. At least he could get out of the house and distract himself for a few hours.  
‘Happy birthday, Gabe. See you later? Park at 4 then Marco’s? Love you. X’  
He couldn't help but feel disappointed at the simplicity of it all.  
Birthdays weren't all they were cracked up to be, and he wasn't a child any more.  
But Anna was, Cas too in some ways, even if he refused to accept it. So he put on a brave face, rolling his eyes as Apollo scratched excitedly at the paper, ripping it way before Gabriel could. At least he hadn't pissed on the bed this morning. Changing the sheets after the dog’s excitable accidents was made more difficult by Apollo’s presence, and he’d scratch at the door if Gabriel closed it on him.  
He felt guilty enough that he was itching for the kids to leave him, let alone feeling that he didn't want to meet Sam in that park, the park that held so many memories. Of course Sam would take him there for his birthday. They'd kiss under the tree they first kissed under, sit holding hands while Apollo tired himself. Then, they'd take him home and return to their favourite restaurant, the one that overlooked the park, which would be lit up and beautiful at night.  
There was nothing wrong with it. Hell, it sounded great.  
It was just that he was so sick of it. Well, lately he was tired of… everything. It was all the same - ticking over into a new day, the struggles remaining the same. His life was dull, it was painful, it was uninspired.  
It was damn pointless.  
God, it wasn't that he didn't love Sam. He doted on the man. But… Sam had everything. A college, a job in his field, a brother he could rely on rather than being relied upon. He was less than a year older than Sam, but so much was different between the two.  
Gabriel was sure that without him, that world of Sam's would keep on ticking. Maybe he'd get talking to that girl from his college visit to Stanford. Maybe he could still change his mind and go there rather than Lawrence University (Gabriel felt bad enough that he’d sacrificed Stanford in part to stay closer to him). Maybe they'd get together. Jess would suit Sam. They’d make a beautiful couple, the kind you were jealous of as you passed them in the street. He would be fine on his own, of course he would.  
Sam deserved that. He deserved to be moving on to better things, and Gabriel was tying him down here.  
He was trying not to be jealous, he really was. But Sam had his life at his feet and Gabriel didn't want life at all. How could he not be?

. . . . . 

One of the toilets had shit smeared on the walls. He gagged at the smell as he made his way into the men’s, the pungency damn near consuming him. Raising his hand to his nose, he wondered why in God’s name someone would decide to wipe their ass on the cubicle wall.  
His own little strip of space wasn't so bad, he supposed once he'd swung the door shut. Someone had drawn a dick on the wall - another guy had carved a phone number into the door.  
It was weird how, no matter when or why you were near a toilet, you'd suddenly need to piss. He fought his bladder, swinging his rucksack to the floor.  
They'd stayed over at Sam’s - Gabriel could remember tumbling into bed with Sam in a tipsy haze and trying to force himself to believe that he felt contented.  
When he'd woken up, Sam had left for work and he was alone.  
Twenty-two. He took a moment to mull over the thought that he wouldn't pass that age. It wasn't a straightforward age. It was awkward and goofy. At 22, you should be independent, but you should also have fun. You should have your life worked out and be working towards it, but you should also have a lively, active social life. It seemed impossible. Gabriel had lost touch with most of his old friends by now - a year away from them and no effort on his part had made sure of that. He didn't have much in the way of future planning, either. He never did work out what he wanted to do with his life and now he was stuck working in a supermarket, completing bone-numbingly boring tasks for pitiful pay. He stuck out like a sore thumb compared to most of his age and damn did he know it.  
He'd chosen the public toilets by the park for a multitude of reasons. He wouldn't be found by Anna here- he couldn't do that to her. He wouldn't be found by Michael, either - if Michael caught him before the deed was done, he couldn't put himself through that. He could lock himself away here, keep the world out so he could do what he had come to do.  
But mostly, it was so that while he was dying, he could be close to Sam, even if only in the memories that held strong around him like a house, a shelter of comfort. He didn't feel like he was in a nasty public toilet block. Here, he was with Sam, in their park where nothing much ever happened, but also in their world. It may be a tedious place for him by now, but it still had the most meaning he could muster up.  
He sighed as he reached into his bag, smirking to himself when his fingers twisted past the cold, hard metal and clutched a marker pen. Nobody could claim that he didn't have a sense of humour in him. Even if all he had left was dark, bitter humour.  
In large, clumsy letters above the toilet, he scrawled ‘sorry about the mess’.  
Slumping to the floor, he admired his scruffy handiwork. That would be the only note they'd find from him here, but he had to say goodbye and he knew it. He had to tell Cas and Anna goodbye. Sam too. Oh god, he had to find a way to say it to Sam whom he doted on, to his siblings who relied on him so much, even if only via text message.  
He pulled his phone from his pocket - an outdated flip screen. He never had gotten round to updating it - never really cared. Half of him thought he was waiting for his father to come back. It was the last thing his dad had given him, even if it was years old by now and turned itself off at random intervals.  
The Novaks were Peter Pans at heart, it seemed to him. They were kids and they refused to grow up. Not one of his older brothers had left the family home, nor had Raphael. They were all waiting for the day when dad came back, Gabriel guessed, even though they hated him. A part of all of them needed him still. Gabriel was the only one who wanted to leave, even if he was clinging onto memories of his father just as the others were.He was the only one who seemed to acknowledge that their father was probably in a shady bar somewhere, drunk out of his mind and embarrassing himself.  
Still, he wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore. Nothing mattered. It was his time to leave.  
‘Sam, it's time for me to go. Not quite sure how to spit this one out. Just know that this last year, it's all gone downhill. Not because of you, hells no. Seems that there's no light at the end of the tunnel for me. Forgive me. Keep going. You have everything going for you. Make the most of it.’  
No matter how much he wanted to say he loved Sam, he knew that it simply wasn't fair. He didn’t want those words from him holding Sam back after he was out of Sam’s life.  
For Cas and Anna, it would be easier, even if only marginally. Anna didn't have a phone, so he could to say his final adios in a two-for-the-price-of-one style.  
‘Brother, sister, I’m so proud of you both. I'm sorry to leave you in this mess of a family. You two get out when you can. Goodbye.’  
Biting his lip, he tossed his phone aside, aiming the pen toward the toilet. It fell into the toilet bowl successfully and his phone bounced from the wall and skidded back to his feet, knocking against his trainers as if to tell him that it was there.  
He pulled his rucksack to his chest, reaching inside to draw out the gun.  
It felt weird, should he be honest. A little daunting. He'd always been a bit of a coward behind the ego and the innuendo. They were just a charade of a guy who was confident, who had it together. Talk big enough, you got left alone. Nobody had to know that you were scared of a fight.  
But he pushed all of that crap aside. It wasn't time to be fazed by that - there never would be again. No. Now, it was time to-  
His phone began ringing. In shock, he stopped what he was doing. He'd caught himself with the safety catch still on, no bullets loaded, so he wasn't scared of misfires that would let somebody know. He set the gun aside, still somewhat delicately, and picked up the phone, staring nervously at it as if it could bite him if he wasn’t careful. He simply stared at it, letting it ring on.  
Eventually, the phone stopped ringing.  
“You have one new voicemail. Please press-” he rolled his eyes, playing the message on loudspeaker.  
“Gabriel? Where are you? Whatever you're doing, you stop it right now,” Sam's serious voice echoed into the room. Then he heard the catch at the back of Sam's throat, the telltale sign that he was trying not to cry. “Stop, okay?”  
He was left staring into the silence for a second, before his mobile rang again. This time, his hand pressed the green button and lifted the phone to his ear without his consent and he found himself answering the call. He just couldn’t keep Sam in that state. Surely he could persuade him to let go if he spoke to him.  
“Park?” Sam's voice came through the phone, breathing heavy. “I'm taking the impala and I'm driving down there. Don't move. At least let me talk to you about it first. Properly and in person.”  
Gabriel hung up, replacing the gun on the floor with his phone. He didn’t have much time now and Sam clearly wouldn’t listen to him over the phone anyway.  
He stared down at the weapon for a second, a touch of uncertainty creeping in. He was leaving the kids with those assholes that called themselves their family. He was leaving Sam behind. To put it plainly, he was running away and he hated himself for it. But what else could he do? There was no way he could just keep on keeping on, he was sure of it.  
So he didn't set down the gun; instead, he began loading it with shaking hands. Gabriel knew that he would only need the one bullet, but he sought some strange comfort in the process even so, deciding to proceed this way despite the time it shredded away. Maybe there was a part of him that wanted to buy some time, give life a fighting chance.  
He was shivering with the idea of what he was sure Michael would summarise as ‘a monstrosity never to be spoken of’, or words to that fanciful effect, and his quaking hands slowed him, hindering his mechanics.  
Even so, he was doing the utmost to rush himself. He knew Sam was coming and he knew that he needed to do this now.  
He'd never felt so conflicted in his life. But the ‘end it all’ side in him was growing stronger as he thought of Michael’s rage - he could not fail now. What was the point in him carrying on, anyway?  
He was almost able to feel the distance closing between Sam and himself. It wasn't far from Sam’s place to here - it would take him five minutes tops to rock up at the park to save Gabe’s sorry ass.  
With the gun finally loaded, he clicked off the safety catch. Raising the gun from where it was pointed towards the grubby ceramics of the toilet, he positioned his finger against the trigger.  
“Time to go,” he whispered to himself, hands still quaking.  
He heard the squeal of tires and shouts of desperation from outside.  
A split-second later, the yells were silenced by the sound of a gunshot.


	2. Chapter 2

He couldn't speak. He could only listen to Sam, listen to the torture that rolled from his tongue.  
“Gabriel, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I let this happen to you. I love you.”  
Sam's monologue kept on coming, pitiful words spoken just a little too late for them to change it all.  
Sam was knelt by Gabriel's grave, flowers already beginning to wilt between his fingers as though his sorrow was infectious to them. He laid them down, choking around his own restrained tears.  
Gabriel was dead and there was nothing he could do about it; he had no way to save him now. It was his fault. He hadn’t known. He should have known, how could he not have known?  
He’d done nothing while Gabriel suffered. He’d done nothing while Gabriel was driven to suicide.  
He’d done nothing.  
The pain was gutting him, tearing him apart from the inside out.  
“I may have had everything going for me, Gabe, but you were holding me together. I was scared. I never told you that, did I? When I got into Stanford, when I went for that day there, I was terrified. I met all these people who seemed so sure of themselves, so confident, and I made myself look like that too. Really though, there was part of me, a big part really, that just wanted to curl up on the couch and watch crappy movies and hide from the world, y’know? Now I haven't got you to do that with. I changed my mind about Stanford because I couldn’t face it. It wasn’t just to stay with you. I made you feel guilty, didn’t I? I’m so sorry, Gabe. I have to face college now either way, though, and it’s already too much and I'm scared. I’m terrified, okay? But I know that my feelings aren’t important any more, I do get that. I did this to you. I was one of the reasons this happened, so I know that nobody cares that I'm scared. Hell, I don’t know if even I care that I’m scared any more. I killed you. You needed me. But I… I wanted you to know that I got scared too. You weren’t as alone as you thought you were. You should have told me how you felt, how bad it really was. I could have helped you. I should have helped you. I’m so sorry, Gabe.”

Sam gazed up at Gabriel as he repeated the speech from his dream, crying like he must have sobbed in this dream world in which Gabriel had died.  
Gabriel wanted to throw up.  
“Then… Well. It got weird. You reached up and out of your damned grave and you grabbed at me and you told me it was my fault, again and again,” Sam confessed, visibly shuddering as he recalled his dream.  
Gabriel had never felt more guilty than he did in that moment. He'd not even bothered to notice that Sam needed him - he was too busy chasing his own demise. He realised with a start that he wasn’t the only one who had needed a little help from time to time.

. . . . .

Sam had woken up, sweating and clinging desperately to Gabriel. He'd had a nightmare - he'd dreamt that Gabriel had died, that the shot had been to Gabriel’s head in that park bathroom.   
Sam had stayed at Gabriel's house that night. In fact, he hadn't left his side since he found him in the WC.  
The gun had misfired and Gabriel had put a hole in the cubicle wall. He'd frozen in shock, staring at the damage and trying to work out what the hell he was supposed to do now. Sam had arrived a few seconds later - Gabriel heard his footsteps falter, clearly not wanting to see what he was so sure he was going to find.  
But there had been no blood bubbling out from under the cubicle and soon Gabriel’s boyfriend was hammering on the door, pleading with him to just come out, just talk to him, please.  
It had taken a few minutes for him to exit the stall, but he had. He just couldn't bring himself to shoot with Sam standing right there. As soon as the door had crept open, Sam had snatched up the gun and disarmed it, sliding it across the floor and as far away from Gabriel as he could get it.  
It had been a long afternoon of police reports and persuasions and passers-by staring on. Sam had shielded Gabriel through it all. He had spoken to the cops, holding Gabriel’s hand the whole time, taking the phone numbers they offered up and promising to get Gabriel help if they just let him go home. He held Gabriel to his chest defensively when teenagers gawked at the crying man who was being interrogated. He whispered reassurances to him when he whimpered at prying questions.  
The worst of it had been going home. Michael had demanded to know why his brother was such a wreck and when Sam filled him in, all hell broke loose.  
Michael had hurled insults at Gabriel, his brother’s words striking his gut like a sucker punch. He wanted to hit him, or to beg him to stop, or to leave. He did none of those things. He stood there and absorbed every word like the coward that he was.  
“Sam, go home.”  
“No.”  
“What did you just say to me? This has nothing to do with you,” Michael cautioned Sam, voice dangerously stern, even for him. Gabriel shot Sam a warning glance.  
“I’m not leaving him with you, Michael. Not a chance,” Sam responded in an equally determined voice, squeezing Gabriel’s hand in comfort.  
“Sam. Just go. Don't get caught up in this,” Gabriel had pleaded with him, but Sam stood firm, fighting Michael like Gabriel wished he knew how to, wished he had the balls to.  
Eventually, his brother had backed down. Well… If backing down equated to storming out of the house, his final words being a warning that Sam was not welcome.  
“Do you really think I'm going to have sex with him tonight? That is not what he needs,” Sam retorted. He received nothing but a disgusted glare and a door slammed in his face.   
“I don't know, Sasquatch,” Gabriel had smiled feebly, brow raised.   
“No,” Sam had replied firmly, and that was that.   
Truthfully, Sam was right. Gabriel needed to be listened to, not touched. He needed a different kind of closeness. He needed to be exposed beyond a physical level, to let Sam into his darkest thoughts rather than his dirtiest.  
But that was hard. In fact, the idea seemed damned near impossible. He'd built his walls high for a reason - he didn't like what lay beyond them.

. . . . . 

They were awake now, though. Sam was still visibly shaken and Gabriel had no idea how to comfort him.  
“I'm a dick. I should have pushed, should have asked how you were doing more,” Gabriel muttered, eyes burning with tears.  
“So should I,” Sam laughed flatly, “Gabe, I'm not looking for sympathy here. I just wanted to tell you that I get it. I get how it feels to be out of place and scared of the world, scared of yourself. I'm not trying to tell you that this should be easy for you to deal with, not at all. I'm just saying… You're not alone here. I'm right here with you when you need me, and I might understand more than you think.”  
Gabriel nodded, eyes cast downwards. He didn't know quite how to talk to Sam now that he'd fucked up his grand finale and let the whole world know how hard he had it inside his own head.  
“You should go home. Michael got back ages ago now; Lucifer’s here too,” he whispered. Sam didn’t need to see him like this. Sam deserved better, always better than Gabriel could be.  
“They won’t look after you, Gabriel,” Sam told him firmly, and Gabriel restrained himself from saying that he didn’t need looking after, because he knew that he probably did, “I'm staying and in the morning we’re going to dial up those numbers and see if we can find you a therapist you get along with. We're going to talk to Anna and Cas. And I'll be with you through it, because hell, it'll be tough. I won’t lie and say it won't be, but I can be totally honest with you when I say that I’m not going to leave you alone in this. Never again, okay? I promise you.”  
Gabriel nodded, pushing his nose into Sam’s shoulder; Sam’s arms snaked around him, pulling him closer into his cradle, stroking his hair gently like he was a mother and Gabriel was a sickly child.  
“I'm going to keep you safe now.”  
“Okay,” he sighed, admitting defeat.  
“We don’t need to do this right now. We can talk tomorrow, but right now you need sleep.”  
He nodded again and in Sam’s arms, it wasn't long before he was asleep again. He hoped that Sam's dreams, like his, were a little sweeter this time.


	3. Chapter 3

“Name’s Benny. Pleased to meet you, Gabriel. Sam, you too,” the therapist across the table was the one to speak first. He had a weirdly rustic look about him- old fashioned. In fact, he kind of looked like what he imagined an old fisherman to look like. He definitely didn’t have a shrink look about him.  
They had called a couple of therapists, numbers supplied by the police, before they spoke to Benny. He had been fully booked aside from that morning and insisted to Gabriel that he was to come in during that slot and meet with him. Sam had insisted upon paying for Gabriel’s therapy, at least until Michael came round and they could talk about the family bank account with him. Gabriel never realised quite how pricey a good therapist could be.  
Gabriel folded his arms stubbornly, kicking back in his chair and refusing to speak. How did he end up here?  
Oh, right. He tried to shoot himself in the head.  
Maybe I really am crazy, he thought to himself.  
“Hi,” Sam responded after a long silence. “This is Gabriel and I’m Sam, his boyfriend.”  
“Do you want Sam to stay, Gabriel? Might get kinda heavy an’ all, brother. This is an introduction, so Sam can stick around if it'd help, but if not he can go, too. Whatever’s best for ya.”  
Gabriel couldn’t help but concede that he instinctively liked the guy despite his best efforts to stay adverse to him. He seemed genuine - his eyes were concerned and his lined face looked experienced. He obviously knew his job; it seemed to him like Benny did it well, too.  
What Gabriel liked more than any therapeutic experience, though, was that he was talking to him like they were on the same level- like Gabriel was just as valid as he and that his issues didn't put him down. He didn't feel like a client right now, so he decided to speak up.  
“He can stay. Moral support and all.”  
“I don't bite,” Benny grinned, but he nodded. “I know we spoke on the phone this morning, but you need to fill me in on why you're here once more. I’ve not had much prep time, so I could really do with a refresher. Just tell me the basics of what's been going wrong and what got you brought to me. You saw the cops, right?”  
“Yep. I've been feeling… I've been wanting to die. Got myself a hold of a gun and I was gonna put a bullet in my mouth. Said goodbye and Sam sussed me out, called the cops, worked out where I was. Uh… Gun misfired, he got me out and that's about it, I guess.”  
“Okay. Gun’s out of the picture now, right?”  
“Yep; Sammy boy here gave it to the police - it was my brother’s, so that will be a fun conversation to have,” he shuddered at the thought of explaining to Lucifer.  
“I've seen violence before. Yer brother’ll be better off with guns gone. Now, d’you wanna tell me why you did it?”  
“I - not really, no,” Gabriel replied shortly. Benny merely raised his eyebrows, staring at him for a long moment. “Okay, fine. Crappy times and all. Had a rough year. Haven't got many friends, haven't got much of a life, future’s an empty void. That's enough for now, though. Thanks and all, but that’s all you’re going to get from me,” he said stubbornly. No way was he going into this with Sam sat right there, not that far into it. Not yet.  
“No problem. Thanks, Gabriel. I'll have the police report sent to me soon, I just gotta let them know that you’re officially workin’ with me now- I'm guessing since you're talking that you'll be booking yourself up. If you don't, I’m duty bound to let someone know you're still working on finding a therapist, I’m afraid. You need lookin’ after right now, okay?”  
“Yeah. I- I think I'll be coming back,” he nodded, slightly dazedly. It had been a hectic, confusing 24 hours. He knew that he’d been ridiculously lucky to find this appointment with someone he could talk to that soon, but he still wasn’t quite sure if he even wanted to wrap his head around failing the day before.  
“Good man, Gabriel. Hey - you've done good today, okay? Real good.” Benny reassured him as he scrawled down a few dates, checking them with him as he went. “You can go now. Nothin’ too scary right now, see? You’re going to be just fine.”  
“Here’s hoping, right?” he smiled awkwardly. 

. . . . .

Talking to Cas and Anna had been difficult.   
Castiel, luckily, had been wise enough not to tell Anna about the text until he was certain of the situation. He was also intuitive enough to know that he should speak to Sam before he consulted Michael about the situation. So long as his brother was alive and back at home, it could wait. Gabriel’s safety was the main concern. So when he was reassured that Sam had it covered, he'd waited nervously to hear, keeping quiet despite his anxieties.  
Cas knew now for sure what the message had meant and he had his questions, but he also knew that his brother needed time to heal from what had happened and that now wasn’t the best time to interrogate him.  
Anna, however, was full of queries. She was an inquisitive child and being left out on any knowledge made her impatient and demanding.  
She was a mature girl - hardly the type to brag that she was ‘turning 13 in three weeks’ and therefore ‘not a baby anymore!’ like a lot of kids - she was well aware that she was the youngest in the family. But she was self-righteous - she knew that she was young and thought she deserved to know in spite of that, not out of ignorance of it.  
She had demanded repeatedly that she were to be told what they were talking about. She quickly wearied Gabriel, but she was oblivious to that.  
“Anna,” Gabriel had warned. “You don't want to know, okay? Something was going to happen but Sam stopped it. Cas was worried. I thought you may have known too, but if you don't then be glad. Maybe one day, alright?”  
“I'll work it out.”  
“I don't doubt it. Come on over here and give me a hug, kiddo,” he smiled softly at his sister, “It's tough to talk about it right now, Anna. Can you give us some space? I’ll come see you later, promise. Hey- maybe we can go get waffles sometime, huh? I owe you a treat after that killer birthday pressie, right?” he vowed, deflecting the situation as best he could.  
It seemed to work because after that, the redhead had understood enough to leave him be. She hadn't been happy about being kicked out, but she'd obliged after warning him that she was going to hold him to both offers- one of information, and the other for some time with her brother. He hadn’t spent time with her in a long time, neglecting his usual patterns of affection towards her. That was enough to satisfy her for now, but she wasn’t happy about being kicked out.  
With Cas, though, it was going to be so much harder. It was apologising repeatedly and saying it wasn't his fault in any way and somehow letting him know just how much Gabriel was having a tough time. It was looking in his brother’s eyes and letting him see the hurt. It was realising that, while Anna still had some innocence left, he couldn’t protect Cas from the truth any longer- perhaps with anything.  
“You should have told me. You are a good actor, Gabriel. You have to let people know these things. I would have been here for you had I known, as would any of us.”  
“I know. I guess I'm learning that. Okay?”  
“Okay,” Cas nodded, an awkward, sad smile on his face. 

. . . . .

The guilt hurt so badly some days that he felt as though he couldn't breathe, like it was weighing down on his chest and compressing his airways, leaving him gasping for air.   
Sometimes it was literal and those times he was forced to see Sam looking terrified as he tried to help Gabriel fight through the jungle of panic that was trapping him in with its tangling limb-like vines.  
Then, of course, the guilt came on even stronger.  
The hurt he felt - the sadness and the hopelessness - was enough to cripple him. Half of him believed that one day he would wake up and find himself paralysed.  
But it wasn't physical. That was the problem. It couldn't be seen and he wasn't crippled. He didn't wake up unable to move, unable to feel his legs, but he still woke up feeling like he couldn't get up and face the day, like it was pointless, worthless. That was worse, he thought. Being able, technically, to do it all just fine, but being utterly unable nonetheless.  
This wasn't who he was. He wasn't sad and dull and unable to crack a smile, make a joke. He was meant to be lively and bright, full of bad innuendo and teasing mockery. He was meant to feel like he was living, not just existing.  
He was just trying to breathe through it all and it was so damned hard.


	4. Chapter 4

He sighed, staring up at Benny silently.   
“How are things with Sam?” Benny pushed, catching his eye and staring at him, his gaze questioning. Gabriel shrugged, wordless. “Had a fight?”  
“No. No, it's not that. It's just…” He paused, shrugging once more, uncomfortable. He felt guilty enough already without complaining about Sam behind his back to a therapist.  
“’S just?”  
“Not much going on in some departments right now, y’know?” Gabriel replied, wiggling his brow suggestively.  
“Since the cops?”  
“Yep. ”  
“Well, if that’s a change for you two, it's significant. He probably doesn't want to hurt you. Thinks you're delicate now.”  
“I know. It's ridiculous,” he huffed.  
“Well talk to him, Gabriel. I’m gonna sound all boring therapist right now, but you gotta communicate.”

. . . . .

Gabriel sidled up to Sam, flopping down on the couch next to him and leaning over, pushing his hair away from his ear.  
“Dean's out right?”  
“Yeah, he's at- why?”  
Gabriel smirked, shrugging. “Get a clue, Samson. Why d’you think?”  
“Not right now,” Sam sighed.   
“It's always ‘not right now’ lately.”  
“And why do you think that is?”  
“Because to you, I've stopped being Gabriel, your boyfriend, and started being Gabriel, the depressed man you tread on eggshells around and god forbid you hurt my damned feelings! What might happen then? Mustn't upset crazy, unstable ol’ me, right?” Gabriel snapped, pushing himself up from the lumpy sofa and heading toward the door, as though he would leave at any second. He saw the hurt on Sam’s face and felt bad, but it soon reverted back into anger. Somehow, anger was easier to deal with these days - more brutal, perhaps, and brutal was always easier than emotive.  
Sam must have caught the flair of rage in Gabriel’s eyes, because suddenly he was screaming back.  
“You want me to not worry about your feelings? Okay, fine. I'm doing my best! I'm terrified that I'll wake up to a text from you and this time, there will be nothing I can do! So excuse me for not being all over you at any given moment, I’m afraid keeping you alive is more important right now!” Sam yelled.  
“There's a difference between spending your life in my lap and actually noticing that I exist as a person once in a while!”  
“I can't do everything, Gabriel,” Sam replied softly, his anger mellowing into sadness.   
“I'm asking you to kiss me from time to time, to not go straight to sleep at night, to hold my hand more. Act like I’m still who I was before, that's it!”  
“That's it? That's it? Except that isn't it, is it? I'm here to keep you alive right now, that's what most of this is about.”  
“I'm gonna go home. Let you get a break from being my carer,” Gabriel replied coldly.   
“I- that's not what I want, Gabriel!” Sam exclaimed helplessly.  
“I'm pretty sure you don't want to look after me right now. I'm a big boy, Sasquatch. I can handle myself from time to time. Do I look on the edge to you? Do you really think that at any given moment I’ll be off to find a gun? You do your damned thing. Take a time-out from your new job, because I never asked you to be my childminder.”

. . . . .

The last few weeks had been… Well. They'd been; they'd existed. He had existed, had kept pushing through the darkness for the sake of his family and Sam. It had been hell, but somehow he’d done it.  
Sam had been great, really. He was being unfair, overdramatic, but he couldn't help it. He missed the way their relationship was before. He knew it was him who had changed it, not Sam; he blamed himself for it constantly.  
He just wanted to go back to before that day in the park three weeks ago.  
He wasn't sure if it was to give life or death a second chance.  
He wasn't letting himself think about it.  
He was terrified of living, but now he had been given a taste of how everyone else would react, he didn't know if he could do that to them. Even when it came to his older siblings, he couldn't be the newest reason that they were at war in their own home.  
As much as Sam was starting to bug him, he really had been a saint to Gabriel. Michael had kept on bitching; Lucifer had mocked him just a little before hastily adding with a telltale smirk that he was ‘here for you, Gabriel’ (communicating to Gabriel as ‘I'll rip you to shreds if you think I’m DMC material’). Raphael had scorned him before reminding him that he had a family to hold together just as much as the rest of them did, causing him to bite his tongue before he remarked that she was hardly doing her part in that. Through it all, Sam had reassured, comforted and deflected more than his fair share of knocks at him, at them.   
The thing of it was, it wasn't just the sex. It was that Sam wouldn't do any more than hold him and kiss his forehead when he was sad- he wouldn't hold his hand or lounge on him or kiss him properly. It was like Gabriel was made of glass and he hated it. 

. . . . .

Dean had been surprisingly kind. Usually, Sam’s brother had a grudging acceptance for him at best. But now...  
“We all have our demons, buddy.”  
“Sure. What angst have you seen?” Gabriel had snapped, before realising what he had said and instantly wanting to take it back. Everyone had their troubles, the Winchester family more than most.  
He expected then that Dean would turn him away. He’d been offered an olive branch and he’d rejected it; the elder Winchester had every right to give up there and then, but he didn’t.  
“Mum died, dad went nuts. We aren't all different, you and me. You know, when I was 17, I wanted to die. I'd lost my father to all kinds of crazy, I was Sammy’s only hope and I was scared, man. I was hopeless, okay?” Dean confessed. “Don't tell Sammy. He doesn't know- I'll tell him one day. Just… In my own time, got it?”  
“How did you cope, Dean-o? All that, how?” Gabriel pushed, awe in his eyes. You'd never have guessed that behind all the bravado, someone could be hurting that much. Then again, he should've taken some notes from himself.  
“Honestly? By not coping. By falling apart on my own and no, it wasn't the right way to do it. I pushed through the dark and somehow, I came out the other side. I held on and held on for Sam. One time, dad found me trying to bash in his gun safe and I had bruises for two weeks. Another, I took a bunch of pills. Sam found me barfing and took me to the hospital; I told him I had a real bad stomach bug, but he insisted anyway. I got there eventually, Gabriel. I got to the point where I was sick of near misses. I spent hours online researching self help. Some of it worked, some didn’t. I got myself there on my own and it is possible. I'm glad you've got support, Gabriel. I'd have killed for that, y’know?”  
Gabriel simply nodded, dumbfounded by this new information.  
“Gabriel. You listen to me, man. You can fight this. You can, I swear to you. Don't you dare give up on life, because I promise you, I promise that it's worth it.”  
Gabriel swallowed hard, unsure how to reply for a moment. He had seen so many responses over the three weeks since that day - fear, anger, hurt. He had seen people fall apart in front of him. But nobody had shown him this much honest, painful truth when they had spoken to him, nobody had told him just how tough it could get and then managed to pull it back into something manageable. The way Dean put it… Well, somehow it sounded containable. Like he could fight it into a corner, beat it down and finally, after the battle was over, he could tell it where to go and leave it behind.   
It wasn't that they hadn't tried to tell him. But not even Benny had shown him this - perhaps it was the raw truth in Dean's words that made it real for him, but suddenly, he believed that he could.  
“Thank you,” he whispered hoarsely, drained of personality by the sheer revelation of it. He could do this. It was doable. It had been done. This darkness was evil and powerful, but damn if he wasn't stronger.  
“Don't thank me. Just try.”  
“I will,” Gabriel replied. For the first time in three weeks, he was being sincere. He would try. He could try.


	5. Chapter 5

Gabriel sighed happily, cuddling into Sam’s chest. Sam tucked him easily under his arm, combing his fingers loosely through Gabriel’s hair.   
“Love you,” Gabriel muttered, smiling as Sam dropped a kiss on his forehead.  
“I love you too. Look, Gabe, I'm sorry we fought. I was treating you like a patient instead of my boyfriend and I'm sorry.”  
“No, Sammich. You were spreading yourself thin looking after me. You weren't to blame. Something has to give and I'm going to work as hard as I can to get better. I'm going to really try and give it a go, okay?” Gabriel forced himself to smile, melancholy making his chest ache with a sudden burst of sadness. “I found out the other day that I know a guy, a guy who's doing great now, who's been there.”  
“Who's that, then?” Sam frowned. “And what did Dean say to you the other day, anyway?”  
“Oh, don't worry, nothing bad. Well, sorta. Your brother’s secretly a softie, Sam-a-lamb. He said he's supporting me. I know, I know. Shocked me, too. Thought he would finish me off himself for putting you in that situation,” Gabriel chuckled. “He's a good guy, your brother. I mean, I knew he was, of course I did, but it really showed.”   
Gabriel noted with relief Sam’s smile as he talked; he was clearly forgetting about his initial question in favour of relishing Gabriel’s praise for Dean. The tension between Gabriel and Dean was mostly neutral, but occasionally it could build up. Gabriel knew that it was a rare occurrence for the two of them to have such a serious and supportive conversation without making bad jokes or locking horns with accidental insults. Gabriel too was glad that he and Dean seemed to have found some common ground to build some harmony from, and he knew that Sam would be just as relieved. He relaxed into Sam’s embrace, sadness fading into the back of his mind, sinking away mercifully.

. . . . .

“Whatcha lookin’ at, Samson?” Gabriel grinned, flopping down onto the sofa with a bowl of popcorn. When Sam snapped the laptop shut, he frowned for a moment before laughing. “Really, Sam? In my living room, with the kids and Michael and Raphael hanging around - side note, she hasn't been in the house for this long for ages.”  
“No, I’m- Gabriel! No! I'm not, I’m- Jesus, Gabe,” Sam muttered, rolling his eyes.  
“Okay, well what then? You cheating, are you?” He joked cheerfully.  
“Don't be an idiot. You're happy today!”  
“Oh, I'll just be miserable then,” Gabriel replied, body slumping into depression and fatigue for a split second before perking up once more. “It's peaceful around here for once. It's great! Doesn't feel like war came to lunch with us. Michael actually said something nice to me this morning, so I'm all good.”  
“Is he seriously that bad?” Sam asked, cautiously changing the subject.  
“Nah. Unless someone truly pisses him off. He's usually so damned serious though!” Gabriel pulled a disgusted face. “You don't get off so lightly, by the way. Don’t think I didn’t notice you changing the topic there. What are you doing?” he pushed once more, nodding pointedly at Sam’s laptop.  
Sam grimaced, slowly opening the lid of his computer, unlocking it and turning the screen toward Gabriel, looking away nervously.  
There must have been about five tabs open with properties listed up for rent. Skimming through the tabs, Gabriel saw a search for apartments in Lawrence and grinned.  
“You're serious, right? Moving out, getting our own place?”  
“Well, sort of. If you want to.”  
Gabriel flung his arms around Sam's neck, kissing him.  
“That a yes?”  
“Is that a ‘will you move out with me’? Because if that's a yes, yes!” he responded, and if anyone asked later about his reaction, well, he would definitely deny his squeal of excitement.  
They spent the rest of the afternoon property searching. Gabriel hadn't felt this peaceful in months. His excitement had dulled down after a while, but it was a comfortable, satisfied calm. It felt stable, balanced - in fact, for once, Gabriel felt the epitome of level, healthy happiness.

. . . . .

The happy passed, of course. He was slogging it out at work the next day unloading a delivery van when his mood began to dip.  
Work was tedious - in this place, it always had been and always would be. He put things on a shelf, he helped people find things on shelves, he scanned things from shelves. It wasn't exactly exciting, stimulating work.   
Benny had been talking about taking up a hobby. Running or something. He'd laughed and said that he hadn't deliberately worked out regularly since high school and he was fine with that. He hadn't shut up, though, and Gabriel was thinking about asking Sam to jog with him. Something about endorphins…  
For Gabriel, of course, it would be more along the lines of seeing his boyfriend hot and sweaty and gasping for breath, not that he could tell a therapist that.  
His shift was almost over and he could head home soon, though. It was Anna’s 13th and he hadn't had the chance to see her that morning. So through the dreariness of a low-paid and boring job, at least he had something to look forward to at the end of his shift.  
It was true - before he knew it, he was on the way home, engine spluttering a little as it started. He’d been meaning to search for a new car for months, but he never did get round to it. There was always something more pressing.  
Attempting to throw his negativity aside, he managed to smile as he saw the home-made banner Cas had put up.   
Bursting through the door in a faux stab at merriness, Gabriel’s mood soon fell further when he heard the shouting. Even before that, though, he could sense in the atmosphere that something was amiss. Sometimes you could just tell that things weren’t going as they should; the air felt prickly and tense and Gabriel tensed in preparation for the onslaught he was likely to walk into.  
“I don't care that it's your birthday. You're going to church, Anna!”  
“Maybe I don't believe any more! It sounds like a fairy story and you know it.”  
“’God is your daddy now and he’s gonna take care of you’,” Lucifer chimed in helpfully, mimicking a distorted version of Michael’s voice. “Because he totally seems to give a damn, right?”  
The moment he joined the argument, they all knew that Anna’s argument was screwed to hell. Michael and Lucifer already had a big enough rivalry and talking about religion just extended that. Lucifer was determined that he would avoid church - he had been since he was 14. Said he knew he would be ‘going to visit old Beelzebub’ when he died and that he didn't give a flying fuck. So for Lucifer to be siding with Anna about religion, she would truly be in for it.  
“You want to be like him? Well? Anna, do you want to be condemned to hell?”  
“I don't believe in hell,” she replied quietly. As Gabriel made his way into the living room where the fight was taking place, he could see how nervous she looked, head bowed in guilt. “I don't believe. I am sorry, Michael, but I don’t.”  
That was the key difference between Anna and Lucifer. Castiel believed in something, he said, but not the ‘something’ that Michael preached. Gabriel too agreed that he thought there was a higher power, but that it wouldn't be found in a holy building, wouldn't be taught by men in dog collars with a big book of holiness shelved on oak alters.  
Lucifer, however, believed. Hell, his faith was as strong as Michael’s. But he didn't care for God. He believed himself to be long past redemption and he was certain that God didn't give a damn about any of them. He laughed his way through sermons and he'd used his bible paper to encase rizzler so that he could smoke.  
Luckily for Anna, it seemed that Michael had all but given up. It was a rare thing for Michael to back down, but it seemed that he was now past caring for his sister or his family. Some Christian, Gabriel thought to himself.  
He stalked from the room and they all stared after him, finally noticing Gabriel hovering nervously in the doorframe. Clearly they hadn't heard the door in the heat of the fight.  
He was soon presented with the dismayed faces of Castiel and Raphael. They'd clearly tried so hard to prevent this argument and give Anna a pleasant day. Lucifer didn't seem to care either way, although he did pat her shoulder in some strange affection, saying she was right to stand up to Michael before he left.  
“Happy birthday,” Gabriel offered up flatly. All seemed unsure what to say.

. . . . .

“- And this is the bathroom. Needs a lick of paint but overall it's pretty decent,” the realtor informed them. Glancing around the room, Gabriel scrunched his nose in distaste. The walls were mottled with stains, the tiles were dirty and the floor scuffed and worn. It felt like the estate agent was looking at a different flat.  
“Yeah, it's pretty much the Ritz in here,” he snided, earning a warning glance from Sam.  
He knew they couldn’t afford a costly rent unless they took money from his father’s bank account. The only support they ever seemed to access from him was financial, and yet Michael was adamant that their father would have to agree to any withdrawals made, despite the fact that he wasn’t around to do just that. Without it… Well. Sam was a law student (at least his college tuition was paid by Mary’s savings) and Gabriel’s job was at a supermarket.  
Sam was gaining experience via working in a local law firm. He worked as a secretary for a rather successful insurance firm (and yes, Gabriel had totally made jokes about sexy secretaries in tight skirts and low-cut tops) and the money wasn't too bad as it went- hardly the best, still leaving him short of cash, but it could be far worse. Besides, any experience in law, even filing and taking calls, was good for Sam’s degree.  
Gabriel, however, had no idea what he wanted to do with his life.   
Except…  
Perhaps Dean had planted the seed of an idea in his head. He'd been a teenager when he'd been sick - Gabriel could bet that if he'd have been found out (Dean had already told him that even when he’d had his stomach pumped, he didn’t confess to them- something that he had regretted almost immediately), he'd have been packed off to a hospital. Sam and Gabriel had spent long enough arguing him out of that fate with the police.   
That meant there were a bunch of teenagers out there that were also in hospitals. They were in need of some help and they could probably do with a little fun, too.   
It was an idea. It could be the start of a future.  
But for now, he was to focus on the here and now. Namely, the flat he didn't want to live in- The flat that meant leaving Anna, newly declared faith-free Anna, in a house with Michael.  
He didn't know if he could do that to his baby sister.   
Maybe the glitz and glamour of independence was wearing off now that he knew it would leave his siblings more caged in than ever.


	6. Chapter 6

“So,” Benny started, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. Gabriel could tell that what he was about to ask was going to be hard and he tensed in apprehension. “We've been pussyfootin’ around the big issue here. We've started with the little things. But now I gotta ask you, Gabriel, you know I do, about the big thing. How you really feel. Now, we don't gotta do this today, but-”  
“I think that's a good idea,” he admitted.  
“Okay,” Benny smiled. “You’re doing real good, Gabriel.”  
“There are moments that I feel okay. That's the thing. Well, I think I feel okay, anyway. Dunno if I'm so sure what okay is any more. I guess when I'm with Sam, sometimes. Bickering or cooking or something normal and I catch myself making wisecracks and feeling, just… Feeling normal. Feeling like myself, how I want to be, used to be. But then they slip and… You know when you're suddenly so aware of how you feel? The moment those times pass, the misery hits you like a ton of bricks and you aren't you any more, you're The Depressed Person again. I think that's almost the worst thing. Then you start to anticipate it and it's a vicious circle because when you know you're going to crash, you'd rather flatline than have that joy when you know you're gonna lose it again.”  
“I get you,” Benny nodded sincerely. “Feels flimsy, huh? Happiness is breakable. You still gotta be happy, though. Those moments will get more often and more stable, okay brother? When your anti-depressants settle in. If in a month and a half nothing’s different, we change them up a bit. Trial and error, my friend. We’ll get them right. We’ll fix you up. It just might take a little while. That's alright. I've got time. You've got your whole life, and I ain’t and Sam ain’t about to let you cut it short.”  
“I guess,” Gabriel shrugged uncomfortably.  
“No side-effects?”  
“Nothing.”  
“Good. Now, keep going. You're doing well, Gabriel.”  
“Uh. I don't know. I guess it's just… Sometimes you feel empty, too. Everyone thinks it's ‘oh, I'm depressed, I cry 24/7’. I don't cry much. I'm sad a lot, but sometimes I feel nothing. I can't laugh because nothing is funny. I can't find a reason to do anything. I can't find any reason to eat, or get up, or go to sleep. Just… Anything, except sit and stare at the wall. I mean, everyone expects me to be… To be me. That's hard when you don't feel like you.”  
“All this is normal, Gabriel. It's okay to feel like that. That's depression for ya. It's a bitch. We're gonna stab it in the heart, got it?” Benny grinned, and Gabriel couldn't help but smile, too, even if just a little. “Now. Back to school time, kid, ‘cause I've got some homework for you.”  
“Oh really?”  
“Talk to Sam. Tell him all this. Tell him more if you can. Let him react and remember that it ain’t your fault when he’s sad to hear it. You're a victim in this, not just Sam. Never forget that. But you gotta have at least one Deep Meaningful Conversation before next week. You understand me? Tell him. He’ll listen. Fill him in. DMC by next Thursday. Got it? Tell me how it goes.”  
“DMC. Got it,” Gabriel replied, just a hint of complaint in his voice. Sure, he knew he needed to talk to Sam about this crap. Didn't mean it'd be easy, though.

. . . . .

"Sammy," Gabriel called tiredly.  
“Mm?” his boyfriend replied around a mouthful of toast. Gabriel couldn't help but smile at the mess of Sam’s hair (which still looked gorgeous and totally wasn’t fair), the folds and creases of his pyjama bottoms around his crossed legs, the sleep in his eyes that were squinting against the sunlight that was creeping in through the blinds. He was tempted to tell Sam how beautiful he looked there, scruffy just-woke-up hair and striped pyjama pants littered with toast crumbs, leaning against Gabriel’s wall with the blankets gathered round his shoulders to fend off the breeze the open window was offering up.  
“Benny said we've gotta talk.”  
“Okay,” Sam replied, immediately bolt upright, tensed with nerves.  
“Relax. You're pretty when you're sleepy, anyway.”  
“Creep,” Sam pretended to grumble, slumping back once more, a soft smile on his face.  
“I'm your boyfriend, buddy. I'm allowed to check you out,” Sam smiled, deliberately running his fingers through his hair, posing for Gabriel. “As much as I'd like to show you just how hot you are all scruffy, we've gotta talk emotions, apparently. The big F is for Feelings.”  
“As long as it isn't D is for Death,” Sam muttered, his face darkening with sadness.   
“Hey. Hey, relax. I've gotta tell you how I feel, but it isn't going to make me feel worse. Yeah, sometimes I do feel like I want to die, but this is why we have to talk. ‘Cause I gotta tell you this crap and let you do your thing. Which is hopefully take me to bed and take my mind away from it all every time I feel like shit,” he teased, brow raised suggestively. Sam rolled his eyes, but he saw the ghost of a smile and let himself laugh. “I don't think I'm leaving any time soon, Sam. I want to give it a shot, okay? For you more than for me. But I can try. Okay? I can try.”  
“That’s all I want you to do. Try your best and if you make a mistake, if you have a bad day and something bad happens, we can work through it. You stay, though, Gabe. Please. You stay and you work through the bad days with me, you don't leave, you don't die. You stay with me,” Sam replied, the smile gone now, replaced with tears sparkling in his eyes.  
“I know,” he whispered. “I will. I'll try. It's… It's so dark, Sam. It's like it's hard to see. Everyone tells you there's some great big light at the end of the tunnel. Sometimes it feels like death is the only light there is. Sometimes. Because you can't see through the thick, black fog. Some people hurt themselves, some people-”  
“Have you ever… Y’know. Have you?” Sam asked, scared to say what he was thinking.  
“Hurt myself deliberately? No. No, Sam, I haven't,” he replied, and relief flooded Sam’s face. “I won’t lie and say I haven’t thought about it from time to time, but I haven’t. Those things, though, are the way some people find a little escape from the black. It isn't the light, because for some they don't know what it is and for others, like I say, right now it's dying. But people who hurt themselves because they're depressed, or starve themselves because they think they’re disgusting, they're finding a little shelter. They're still in the darkness, but I guess those things stop the wind blowing and knocking them down, just for a little while. If they don't, or if they give in to eating, or whatever it is… I think that wind blows even harder. I think that might be why. I've thought about it, because I want something to stop that wind for a while, but honestly? You're my shelter. I have a positive one, I don't need anything else. If I can't stand up anymore, I text you, I call you. Or I talk to Anna, or Cas. The people around me are my shelter.”  
“Good,” Sam whispered.   
“I know it's a lot to put on you and I hate myself for it, but sometimes I don't even need to talk to you. If I think I have nothing in my life, I think of my happy memories and I realise I've made some even when I've been feeling like this. I have a happy space and I guess if I stay I can grow it and find a happier life. Sometimes it's harder to find than other times, though. Y’know?”  
Sam nodded, drawing Gabriel into a hug. Sometimes, he thought to himself, people hug you so tight it feels like they're gluing you back together, fixing you up.  
The last few days, he'd learnt. He'd realised that there was something for him here, even if right now it was just the simple company of the people he loved. This small revelation was enough, for now. It was enough to cling to through the tough times, until he found what he wanted in life. He could do that. He could hold on.  
“You know, I understand that this last year has been hard. I promise you I do. But Gabriel, your life changed in this year, right? What if it changes all over again? What if this next year is the best year of your life? I'm with you, okay? I'm in this with you. We’re gonna work through this and things will get better.”  
Gabriel nodded, smiling sadly. Something in Sam's words resonated with him, ignited a little hope in his mind.  
He knew he would struggle. Hell, there would probably be times every day where he’d feel like finding another gun and finishing what he had started that afternoon in the park a couple of months ago now.  
But when he felt that way, he could pick up the phone. He could call Sam and whisper that he wasn't doing so good and trust that Sam would be there for him. That was enough.  
Maybe in a year’s time he would look back and realise that his happy was around a hell of a lot more. Maybe it would be okay.

. . . . .

"I've been doing some thinking,” Sam began, swallowing down a mouthful of sandwich.  
“Dangerous, that!” Gabriel grinned, laughing as Sam glared at him for a second. “Aw, Samshine, you look too good angry.”  
“Anyway, I was thinking about what we spoke about the other day. I guess I've worked out why some people don't think of it that way, why some people don't understand. I guess you could think of it like knives. Like life is throwing them at you, trying to hurt you. And they think that it's the same because everybody has their knives and they can deal with it, so they think you should be able to, as well. But they don't get that theirs, their knives, are just butter knives. They can kinda hurt a little. But held against to the knives depression throws at you… it's incomparable. But the thing is, Gabe, the thing of it is, these knives will scar you, they will hurt you, but they will get blunter. They will get easier to handle; they will come less and less often. You'll get your turn taking the butter knives and the scars will fade from this. You will remember it hurting, just like those scars will still be there, but the pain will fade. It will be a bad memory, but in the end it will be just that. A memory. And by remembering it, you'll have learnt how you need to cope, and that's the shield that you can hold up in front of those knives. Sometimes the shield will yield and it will hurt, but sometimes you'll be able to defend yourself, too,” Sam was beginning to falter towards the end of his speech, pausing and stumbling between his words and staring down at his plate. “I'm sorry, it's a dumb analogy, I was just thinking about it and-”  
“Sam. It’s not dumb,” Gabriel assured him, smiling, and Sam's face lit up again. Gabriel grinned, laughing to himself as he heard Anna and Cas yelling back and forth about how loud she was playing her music. Sam grinned back, and all of a sudden they were laughing without knowing why.  
“Jesus Christ, I love you,” Sam muttered through his bouts of giggling.  
“I love you too, moron.”


	7. Chapter 7

He rolled his eyes at the décor. He'd agreed to take Anna and a friend of hers to a psychic night. His sister was buzzing with excitement - she loved everything of this sort. Her friend, Claudia, was at least trying to act cool, but she too was quick to jump in the queue for a private reading.  
“You should go for it,” Cas informed him, speaking loudly over the brawl of the bustling hall.  
“Hell no. You're meant to be here for moral support, not to force me in there with the rest of these numskulls!” Gabriel protested, even as his heart started to warm to the idea, surprising him. There were several shrouded suites around the room, and he had a certain feeling about one of the shoddily put together indoor tents. Maybe it was just that the queue there was dwindling a little, or that it was quieter at the back of the hall–heck, maybe it was just that the beer had gone to his empty stomach faster than he thought (he sure as hell knew that the food stalls were calling to him, too) - but he felt like the little shack was beckoning him over.  
So he quieted his protests with a final few complaints and with Cas’ hand at the small of his back, he let himself be guided towards the tent.   
He could see now that, in fact, there was no queue at all- the crowd was merely a group of tipsy college boys waiting to see what their friend had been prophesied. When he emerged in a daze, Gabriel was all the more drawn to the tent.  
A chubby woman bundled out, her aged face distinctly lacking in all of the exaggerated getup of a mysterious gypsy psychic (which Gabriel breathed a sigh of relief over, for such attire both perplexed and irritated him in equal parts); her clothes were distantly normal and her ears free of cheap hoops. She smiled, glancing around before beckoning him inside.  
Her chatter made him feel instantly at ease as he settled into the couch. The interior of her little shack had clearly been supplied by the organisers- everything about it was distinctly typical of a psychic, and distinctly clashing with her.  
“How's your night been, sugar?” She smiled, grasping a jug from the table and lifting a plastic cup questioningly. “Juice? And don't you give me no sass. I know you're not a babby, now,” she warned.  
“Wha- I-” Gabriel stuttered, unsure what to say except to silently nod, since he had, yes, been about to protest that he didn't need catering to like a child.  
“And don't bother tellin’ me you think it's a scam. Most of them out there, sure, fakes. But sweetie, don't bother tellin’ me I'm just reading your body language or some crap. Make it easier on yourself, sugar, ‘cause if not I'm gonna freak you out real bad. See that boy back there? Thinks he's the big man, gonna crack me open. Told him a few home truths and now he's a little outta himself,” she cackled, and Gabriel couldn't help but laugh with her. She was an infectious, bubbly woman, clearly wise and tuned-in. She was also blatantly legit, which took Gabriel a while to digest as she spoke.  
“Okay, not a con. Got it,” he smiled. “I'm-”  
“Hey there Gabriel. Missouri.”  
“Got a psychic name,” he commented, and she smiled at him. “What you gonna tell me, then? ‘Cause I'm here for my sister and my brother stowed me into this tent with you - sort of, anyway. What Big Revelation have you got in store for me?”  
“What do you wanna hear, Gabriel? What do you need to hear?”  
He shrugged, staring away uncomfortably. No way did he sign up for this. He came here to keep an eye on his sister, let them have their fun, go home a little tipsy and talk to Sam, feeling good about himself for once. He didn't come here to have some palm-reader crack his skull open.  
“Your head hurts, don't it boy? You’re hurtin’. Covering it up by trying ta be yourself, brushing it aside and hoping nobody will guess at it. That's okay, Gabriel, being you, but it's also okay to let yourself show that you're sick. Your boy, your Sammy, he's good to you, so let him be. I know that ‘knives’ thing he was goin’ on about is ringing with you, the stuff about the future, too. Clever boy you got there. He gets it more than you think. Now listen to me, child, don't you hurt yourself, ‘cause I know you've thought of it. Won't make anything better, boy, not really. Swear to me, won't you?”  
He nodded. “Sam's great, yeah. And I- I guess. Okay. Okay, I won’t.”  
“Look, boy, I probably oughtn't do this. But these places aren't usually my style and I like you, so here-” she paused, snatching up a sheet of paper and scrawling down an address, “- if you wanna, that is, but when your head is mended up and you're happy, proper happy, you come see me, okay? And any time in between, for that matter. I’m a simple old girl, you know. My house is always open to nice company and if I can help you then I will. You're welcome about, boy. Not like I got an awful lot of company ringing around, hey?” she smiled.  
It was strange, the way this woman seemed to work. A damn good kind of strange, though. Seemed to Gabriel that she led a simple enough life aside from the whole psychic gig - she liked someone, she befriended them, no questions asked, no complications holding her back. He could imagine that her network must be large. From the way she threw herself into their conversation, it was clear that her door was always open.  
“You really don't rock this gig much, do you?” Gabriel grinned. “Psychics are meant to wear swooshy skirts, lots of makeup. They're meant to milk us innocents of our dimes and fool us with gimmicks, not actually try to lead us into something good. Aren't you gonna tell me I've got a dead cat called Jimmy who says hi?”  
“Well, do you?” She laughed. “Not the kinda thing I tend to tune into. Background information like that doesn’t mean an awful lot most of the time where I’m coming from.”  
“No, I don’t. It was Jangles and it was my brother’s. Don’t ask, I have no idea, either. He was, what, eight? I’ll let him off.” he grinned dorkily.  
“You look after yourself, Gabriel. Swing by sometime, okay? Door’s always open.” Missouri smiled genuinely as Gabriel gulped down the final dredges of his watered down blackcurrant squash.   
“Have a nice night, Missouri,” he smiled as he stepped out into the suddenly-too-bright light of the hall.  
Anna waved him over, still laughing. He spotted Cas part way through a queue and couldn't help but smile to himself as he noted the look of horror on his brother’s face. Clearly, the girls had forced him into the same predicament that he'd landed on Gabriel, and as a child emigrated from the tent with disappointment written all over him, the woman’s drawn face peeped around the tent to summon in the next person, long skirt tangling around her ankles. It was clear that he wasn't going to be so lucky with his reading.  
Oh well, Gabriel thought with a quiet chuckle. Anything he got in there, he deserved, Gabriel conceded.  
Maybe the woman would make contact with Jangles. 

. . . . .

“How you holdin’ up, Gabriel?”  
“By clinging to my gorgeous thing over here in any way that I can. Literally, as often as possible,” Gabriel teased, nodding at Sam, who cleared his throat uncomfortably, blushing slightly. “Aw, Samson, you not like therapist’s offices?”  
“Good job you ain't here for your head, Sam,” Benny grinned back.   
Gabriel and he had started to form some sort of kinship now, easy banter flowing between the heavy words and sighs and fear of what to say. The lighter moments of their sessions were filled with… Well, normalcy, somehow.  
Benny had invited Sam to join them that week. He'd decided he wanted to see how the family was, how their relationship was, and how Sam was holding up with it all, too. After all, Gabriel knew that this hurt more than just him and Benny was right, Sam needed to see that it was okay for him to be hurt by it. Just because he wasn't the one on Citalopram and weeklies with a shrink, didn't mean he wasn't entitled to a little help himself sometimes.  
Gabriel had refused the Prozac. Said it was way too cliché, and in the end Benny had quit arguing with him and asked the psychiatrist for the next line of defence, instead - so long as Gabriel swore that if the two other main antidepressants didn't work, he wouldn't give Benny any more shit about going on Fluoxetine.  
He'd grudgingly agreed, secretly hoping that he wouldn't be forced to turn into the typical American Prozac pill-popper. He knew it was stupid, but all he could think of was middle aged soccer moms bragging about their postnatal depression with their youngest. He knew it wasn't like that at all, but bitching and stereotypes stuck and only now was he starting to realise how ridiculous they were.  
Selfish. Emo. Attention-whore. Weak. All those damned stupid phrases used to describe the depressed, the hurt, the suicidal. To many, the mentally ill were the taboo, the dirty, stamped as avoid-at-all-costs, as though they were contagious.  
He hated them- the typecasts and the judgements hurled around.   
Suddenly he realised that he didn't hate himself for it so much these days.  
He didn't hate himself full stop.  
All these things - house hunting, taking his siblings out to the Psychic night - they were chipping away at the darkness, forcing it to recede, even if it was only a little at a time.  
Maybe he could push it away. Maybe he could make it out of this war alive. He didn't want to be another suicide statistic. He wanted to be happy, and for once he knew with certainty that he deserved to be happy.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Sorry this chapter is a day late. Happy Easter!   
> I hope you're enjoying this so far. Remember, comments of any kind are ALWAYS welcome. :)

“It's perfect, Sam,” Gabriel nodded half-heartedly, trying to absorb some of Sam’s energy about this. He loved the apartment, he really did. Sam was right, it would make an amazing first home- it didn’t need much decorating and the rent was reasonable. It even had a small garden, a must-have for Apollo that they were struggling to find.  
But…  
But his mind kept going back to the way he'd heard Michael talk to Anna, the way Cas had nervously described how the argument had been going before he’d arrived and it had diffused.  
Their family unit had once been important to Michael. Their purpose was to be good to their father so far as Michael was concerned. And although Gabriel personally thought that their dad was the worst Christian he had ever seen, they were also an extremely religious family - or at least they were supposed to be.  
Their mother had been and so their occasional-church-attendee of a father had thrown himself into the faith and raised his children to do the same. His affairs and his drinking were swept under the carpet.  
When he left, Michael expected them to turn their attention entirely to their Father Above, instead. He preached that the family must have faith and remain strong in each other and in God, yet they seemed to run in a dictatorship commanded by Michael, who was terrified to stray or see his siblings do so and in this, was a cruel leader.  
Gabriel didn't see any family unit in Michael and Lucifer’s feud, and he certainly didn't see it in Michael’s face when he'd walked out on Anna’s birthday.  
So yes, he was reluctant to move out. Hell, he was terrified of leaving Anna and Castiel to fend for themselves against the mighty force that was the battle between Michael and Lucifer, with only barely-there Raphael to pull them through.   
Of course, he knew he would get to see them - he would see them a lot and he would make sure of that. But he couldn't help feeling that he was doing them a disservice by running away from the apocalyptic hellhole that their so-called family could be.  
Could he really do that to them, knowing that his own escape would make it worse for the pair?

. . . . .

Money wasn't the issue, not if he could find a way to make Michael understand how important this was to him. Gabriel had never delved into his father’s funds, and they were there for the family. His dad had been a successful author of a series called ‘Supernatural’ and whilst he hadn’t published in a very long time, it was more than enough to keep his family comfortable and still leave plenty aside.  
He didn’t know for sure that Michael would deny him the funds. After all, none of the siblings had truly made a strong case. Cas and Anna, of course, were too young. Lucifer, Gabriel secretly thought, was far too immature for that kind of independence - perhaps it even scared him a little. Raphael was barely there; why would she bother with paying for independence when she already had it for free? And Michael was trying to be the family figure. While he used that money when he had absolutely had to, no way was he moving away from the family home and no way was he letting out his father’s money without his explicit permission on a case-by-case basis.  
And so the bank accounts remained almost untouched, growing dust and interest, slowly upping the cash they had to spend should they choose to.  
So no, it wasn't at all the money. But if anyone external asked why they let the pretty ground floor apartment go, he would bleat out about how little cash they had to work with. After all, most that they knew would be none the wiser- aside from those who were already involved in the delicate situation.  
It was easier than saying that he was scared of leaving his brother and sister at home with his brothers at loggerheads and their only stable sibling left barely there at all. It was easier than saying that he didn't know how they would cope. It was easier than explaining that no, it wasn't the way it sounded on paper, that they weren’t in an abusive home and they weren’t unsafe, not really.  
It was just easier that way.  
So he let them all believe that he was dirt poor not out of any twisted arrogance or manipulation of his privilege - he was well aware that he could be rich and that he had a legal right to his money (according to a letter from their father prior to him clearing off- for good, so it seemed). He let them believe it to keep his family from becoming the new juicy gossip.  
He was almost sure now that he wouldn't have the stomach to actually move out. But he still didn't know quite how to break it to Sam that he didn't want to leave.  
So he kept on putting it off. Flats kept on going. Sam kept on pestering. He kept on pretending he was still into the idea.  
He felt guilt coming in on those huge waves once more. He had agreed to this - hell, he was excited about it. He'd wanted it so badly. But since Anna’s birthday, the doubt was ripping the idea to shreds.

. . . . .

"Hey, mom,” Gabriel announced flatly, setting down the flowers. He opened up his picnic bag, pulling out the blanket and shaking it out before setting it down.   
“Hello,” Castiel mimicked weakly, glancing round at Michael to do the same before he sat down, pushing the flowers closer to her.  
“Hello, mother,” Michael replied grimly, a slight sad smile on his face. Gabriel knew that Michael found their practise a little pointless, but that he still missed her and remembered her fondly, so he played along.  
The girls stayed home, as usual. Anna often wanted to come, but she agreed that this was a day for Evelyn’s biological children to see her. Gabriel could bring Anna to visit another time. After all, their mother had been kind to her when she was small. Anna didn't remember her too well and she knew that her own biological mother was not her, but she still respected her greatly, loved her a little, too. They went and talked to her sometimes, together or with Cas. But The Anniversary was for her children and Anna was accepting of this. Raphael never visited with them, but Gabriel had caught her writing out a letter to Eve, and when he visited his mother a few days later, the note was with her.  
Cas forced a smile onto his face, beginning to unpack the bag and spread their lunch across the blanket. Michael folded himself down into a seated position on the rug and Gabriel slouched onto the grass. Michael looked close to chastising him about grass stains, but he restrained himself. Now was not the time.  
They were distracted by the sound of sobbing. He glanced up at the other mourners over the neat rows of graves (their mother’s headstone was an expensive marble angel. One wing was engraved with her name, date of birth and date of death. The other read ‘no other spread more love upon earth, and she shall be replayed this love in heaven’- a choice of their father, whom they all knew had hardly repaid this love in her lifetime), noting that the stone they were stood closest to was clean and fresh, the earth still settling from being turned.   
Their family had once been as shaken as them. Gabriel could remember the agony he had felt as a sixteen-year-old boy whose mother died on a night that he was too busy partying to be with her. He couldn't have known, he knew he couldn't, but at the time, it had all been his fault in his mind.   
The mourners wept on, but they all turned away. They had seen enough tears; they didn't need or want to listen any longer.  
“We miss you still, mom,” Gabriel sighed. “We hope you're okay, wherever it is you are.”  
“She's in heaven, Gabriel,” Michael probed, frowning sternly at him.  
“I hope heaven is good for you. Hope there’s a bunch of naked men with nipple tassels dancing for you!” He teased gently, and he was certain that he saw the ghost of a smile on Michael’s face.  
“Just because that's your idea of heaven, Gabriel,” Castiel smiled at his brother, eyes lighting up at the opportunity to detract from the misery of the day.  
“I only need one. And that's not my heaven as such, but don't worry, ‘cause I get my heaven and then some any time we get it on,” he smirked, laughing under his breath when Cas grimaced in disgust.   
“As you can see, mom, nothing much has changed here. Gabriel is… Having a difficult time. But we’re getting through, right brother?” Michael asked, offering up a sympathetic smile to Gabriel. He was shocked at that - that Michael was baring himself to him, offering support and proving that he did care - but he didn't dare show Michael his surprise. Sometimes Michael came out with something that broke down his exterior. Clearly he'd been coming to terms with what was happening, learning that Gabriel wasn't being defiant and that he really was hurting. His brother was misguided and he was overly strict, but he tried to be a good man.  
“Yeah,” he replied softly. “We’re getting through.”


	9. Chapter 9

He shouldn't have expected the peace to last. He did, but he shouldn't have. He should have known. Michael had genuinely been more tolerant as of late, and Gabriel really was starting to believe that his elder brother was beginning to change.  
But no. It didn't take long for him to revert back to his usual self.  
They were barely halfway through October, a mere 10 days since their mom’s anniversary, when it happened.  
To be fair to Michael, Cas hadn't given them much in the way of a warning. He'd left a message on the home phone saying that he was bringing her over and he'd never so much as mentioned her before to any of them.  
Michael got home from work at six to find a girl he’d never met sat half on his kid brother’s lap on his couch.  
Meg was cool. The popular kind of cool, the kind of cool that Cas never usually got anywhere near. It wasn't that he was too dumb, and while he was clever he knew not to brag. He was funny, he could be chatty when he wanted to. He was just… A little awkward from time to time, that was all. Some junior school bullies had made him shy and now he wasn't exactly sitting with the in crowd. He had friends, sure- but the nerdy kind that sat nervously in the quietest corner of the canteen every lunch, hoping for an easy time and to be left alone.   
She wasn’t just popular. She was also loud, crude and sarcastic. She was condescending and she was in Michael’s house, eating his food and drinking beer from his fridge.  
It was probably the beer that did it. It wasn't even Michael’s, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that she’d managed to get Cas to drink.  
As soon as Michael got home Cas had tensed up. Of course, she just had to pick up on it and be extra spikey towards Michael, Gabriel thought to himself, rolling his eyes.  
Not a good idea.  
It had taken Michael five minutes to drag Castiel away from his never-before-mentioned girlfriend and have him held by the cuff of his shirt so as to stop him from leaving with her.  
“Meg. This was a mistake. You should go,” Cas warned.  
“No chance, Clarence. Looks like me and Michael here got a problem,” she drawled back, shooting daggers at him- the wrong decision if she wanted to keep both herself and Castiel safe from Michael’s fury.  
Nodding at Castiel, Gabriel took his cue to drag her from the room by the arm and out of the front door, shoving her onto their front step.  
“I'll keep an eye on him, I swear. But really, go. He’ll text you. Hate to break it to you, but being a jerk to Michael isn't gonna work out in your favour,” he told her, promptly slamming the door in her face.  
She knocked for several minutes, shouting her indignation through the door, but eventually she gave up.

It was probably the smell of alcohol on Cas’ breath that did it. He couldn't have had more than a few sips, but it had tainted his mouth with its ugly scent.  
“So,” Michael challenged. “You have a whore now, do you?”  
“How dare you?” Cas snapped, instantly realising what he had done by replying. Gabriel couldn’t help but notice that he was quaking in fear.  
“Don't talk to me like that. She is, isn't she? She’s got that look to her. She’s no good. Bet you two have, too, haven't you? Hmm? That's her fault. She's a nasty whore, Castiel.”  
“She isn't a whore,” Cas mumbled, blushing, doing his best to ignore Michael’s accusations.  
He should have denied it. He should have just denied it and everything would have worked out fine.  
But no, he was too busy defending Meg (and he was right, because she didn’t deserve to be insulted, let alone when she wasn’t there to defend herself) to save his own skin.  
Michael’s fist flew and then Cas’ hand was shooting up to his face, a shocked expression across his features before Gabriel could do anything about it.   
“You stay away from her. That girl has the devil inside her, Castiel. Don't you drag yourself down. You see her again and you'll be dropping yourself in it with me and with God, Castiel. She's influenced you. She's disgusting.”  
“She's not a whore,” Cas muttered as Michael turned his back and walked away.  
A small dribble of blood bubbled out from Cas’ nose.

. . . . .

“Sam, I need to talk to you,” Gabriel finally confessed. Sam surely had noticed his tension, but he’d elected not to mention it, instead letting Gabriel work up to telling him.  
“What's up, Gabe?” Sam let himself ask, curling his arms tighter around Gabriel and pausing the movie.  
“Look,” he sighed. “Cas has a girlfriend. She's not really the kinda girl that’s gonna gel with a Christian family, y’know? And apparently she's led him a little astray. Michael isn't happy.”  
“Michael’s never happy.”  
“Nearly broke his nose kind of not happy.”  
“Oh shit, Gabe. How’s Cas holding up?”   
“He's rough. I guess he's angry, too. Michael called this kid some nasty crap and that's what got Cas hit. That and she’d been drinking - he had a little too and I guess Michael assumed he might have been tipsy.”  
“They slept together?” Sam frowned. “Not that it matters. Just that it would to Michael, right?”  
“I'm pretty sure, yeah. Look on Cas’ face when Michael asked even vaguely about sex. Think the kid’s kind of embarrassed about it - not sure why. It's just sex - hey! Don't look all pissy at me, Sasquatch.”  
“Just, huh? So ‘just’ that a few months ago you were that pent up over a lack of it,” Sam teased, poking Gabriel’s ribs, eliciting a stifled laugh.   
“Shut up. Sex is good, okay. I never said it wasn’t. And for some of us it's important. I kinda feel like for Michael it’s not such a great thought, and it's that combined with religion that makes him so edgy about that kind of thing. Still, it’s no excuse to treat the poor kid like that - and me a few years ago, too, remember? Think he's given up on me in that area now though, huh?” he smiled for a moment before sighing. “My big brother is all kinds of screwed. He twists things way more than they have to be. He’s probably got more issues than me, but he refuses to acknowledge it.”  
“Poor Cas and Anna,” Sam sighed sadly.

. . . . .

A tentative knock at the door woke them up - they'd fallen asleep, Apollo tucked into the curve of the back of Sam’s knee. Gabriel glanced up sleepily and grunted permission to come in.  
“I think you’d better come downstairs, Gabe,” Anna instructed him, her voice shaky. He tried to think back through the haze of sleep as to what could have caused a problem, desperately praying that it wasn't Michael again.   
He vaguely remembered hearing a sharp knock at the front door that had stirred him just a little, but he couldn't be sure.  
“M’kay,” he muttered. “In a minute.”  
“Now, Gabriel,” she told him, voice a little too sharp for it to be something unimportant.

He and Sam slouched downstairs, yawning. The dog bounded at their feet; in the end, Gabe had to scoop him up so as not to fall over him.  
As soon as he was near enough to hear the voices inside the living room, he knew exactly what was going on.  
He could hear his father’s voice, as well as an unfamiliar woman’s with a soft Hispanic edge. She was clearly nervous - her words were quiet and wavering where Chuck’s were bold and challenging.  
Stepping into the living room, he saw that she was about forty, with a tired, work-worn face and slowly greying hair.   
She was also pregnant.  
“Sit down,” his father told him. Immediately, he scrambled to the floor, legs crossed. There were no seats left and he couldn't help feel like he was in school once more. But this was not at all the time for high school pranks and backchat.  
“Everyone, this is Jazmin. We met in Wichita. She worked in a bar there. I met her several months ago. I'm sure you will all get along with her, okay?” Chuck commanded, attempting desperately to seem assertive. It was clear that he knew he was out of his depth here. He had been gone for a year and a half- he didn’t know anything for sure about any of them. When their mother died, he'd fallen further into his bad habits and eventually skipped town.  
He had been an irresponsible asshole. Yet Jazmin was looking at him like he was sunshine, and his darting glances back to her revealed much of the same.   
His clothes were new and he was clean shaven. He looked well put together. In fact, Gabriel hadn't seen him like this in a very long time. He didn't look like the man who had cheated on his wife and disappeared on drinking weekends.   
Jazmin had clearly been a good influence on him.  
Still, Gabriel was sceptical. Chuck didn't know his children. He had left them. He had been a selfish bastard and he'd freaking abandoned them all, leaving two young children fatherless and the rest of them scrambling to grow up too fast, fast enough to take up their new stances as stand-in parents. He didn’t have the right to walk back in like this.  
“So, why don't we go round and you can tell me what I've missed?” Chuck offered up. Again, Gabriel felt like he was back in school.   
“Lucifer’s carried on fucking about, Raphael leaves us almost as much as you used to, Michael attacked Cas and made Anna cry on her birthday. Cas isn’t your pure little Christian any more, Anna doesn't believe in God. Oh, and I tried to kill myself, so thanks for damned well being there, pops!” He snapped, shoving himself up from the floor. “I'm staying at Sam’s tonight. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”


	10. Chapter 10

Gabriel grinned at Sam as he set down the drinks, flopping down onto the worn couch and patting his lap to encourage the dog up and onto the sofa. Sam took in a gasp of air as Gabriel collapsed across him, quickly recovering enough to roll his eyes and give him a gentle shove. Apollo immediately got Sam’s revenge on Gabriel for him, jumping up dangerously close to his crotch, causing him to double up a little.  
Noticing the documentary, Gabriel snatched the remote from Sam, flicking to the comedy channel and lobbing it across the room before Sam could fight him for it.  
“Hey!” Sam exclaimed. “You could have broken that. We only just moved in and you’re already wreaking the place!”  
“It landed on the other couch. I have some aim, okay?”  
“High school P.E. tells another story.”  
“Yeah, well, I’ve gotten better. And high school P.E. doesn’t measure all areas of my physical prowess.”  
Sam rolled his eyes again, but he laughed despite himself.

. . . . .

Despite the initial discomfort, their father had settled all of their minds about how much he truly had changed.  
Well, not quite all. Lucifer was planning to move out.  
They were mad, of course they were. They were damned furious at him. But it looked like with time he really could be forgiven.  
Jazmin had been a remarkably good influence towards their father. He was entirely sober now (which Lucifer had found hilarious, considering their meeting place) and he seemed happy. The woman clearly had the patience of a saint if she'd managed to stay with him for any length of time.  
She told them that she got talking to him because he was the first person in a week who hadn't yelled at her when she cautioned him to slow down before he threw his guts up. Prince Charming indeed.  
Raphael adored her, though. Jazmin spent a lot of time with her, anchoring her back at home where she belonged. Michael had taken longer to win over, but even he had decided eventually that he approved. After all, their father was going to church consistently and he was on his best behaviour. For once it seemed like this time, he might keep it up. Michael had his father figure back and he had her to thank for it.  
She’d spent time with Anna and she's been the first to invite Meg over and get to know her properly. She went out with their father once a week and he never once came back drunk.  
She'd done her best with Lucifer, but she never did get through to him. For all his bravado, he loved his father and he missed his mother. He didn't want this imposter of a new parent around, stirring things up, even despite her constant assurances that she knew she wasn't their new mother. He confided in Gabriel that leaving home was something he'd wanted to do for a long time, despite his clear worries about it - she was the last reason he needed. They hadn't seen him since. The last Gabriel knew, he was sofa surfing at the house of some decidedly suspicious ‘friends’.   
As for Gabriel, she had sat him aside and took the time to get through his defences. She confessed that while she'd never been that depressed, as a teenage girl she had GAD. She promised him that she was there any time and that she would help to keep him safe in any way she possibly could when he felt like crap.  
She'd even attempted to talk to Sam about college, even though to her Sam’s happy bursts of talk about pre-law (which Gabriel by now was rather accomplished at deciphering) sounded like a foreign language. She'd invited the older Winchester to dinner (making jokes about them being his in-laws, despite Sam’s protests that they weren't some married couple just yet… Gabriel’s ears had pricked up at the promising sound of the ‘just yet’) and Dean had finally had the chance to meet Gabriel’s family.

. . . . .

Gabriel had moved out with Sam just a few days ago in a rush of invading thrift stores and packing boxes. They had taken as little of Gabe’s father’s money as they could to fill their pretty rented two-up, two-down with what they needed. It had been a snap decision and a lucky one - their house had barely been on the market a week when they had stumbled across it and the landlord moved them in as quickly as he could, impatient to get his second income back after the loss of his old tenants.  
They lived a little closer to Sam’s university now. They were also almost exactly halfway between Dean’s and the Novaks’ homes.  
The best feature for Gabriel, though, was the spare bedroom upstairs that had two beds which would always be made up, they promised, if Cas and Anna ever wanted to get away for a couple of nights at short notice. This was the deal that had settled Gabriel’s mind on the move, sealing the decision for him within his mind.  
Settling down on the sofa, he dragged the excitable bundle into a more comfortable position. Apollo was four and a half years old, yet he still acted like a puppy. He supposed that he wouldn’t have it any other way.  
“We need to walk him,” Sam suggested, although he didn’t look prepared to move in the slightest. Instead, he stole from the bowl of chips that Gabriel had brought in with him along with the juice, crumbling one and feeding it to the dog, who licked it up eagerly from Sam’s palm.  
“Hey! He's getting tubby. Living with you full time, he's gonna be a giant.”  
“Walk him, then!” Sam laughed.  
“Oh, I see how it is,” Gabriel huffed. “Don't want to get your pretty hair wet out there, huh, Sam-a-lamb?”  
“Shut your mouth. I'm cooking tonight, aren't I? I could always just make enough for myself,” Sam threatened.   
“Fair play, moose. Okay, I’ll take him out, but next time you’re coming with me, rain or not. Don’t tell me you’re gonna become a fair weather walker after all this time. ‘Pollo, let’s go!” He grinned, hauling himself back up once more, setting aside his mostly-empty bowl- although not before he’d crushed a chip and thrown it onto Sam’s face, earning him an exasperated glare.

. . . . .

This had probably been a bad idea. He hadn’t been here in months. Now, the cold December wind hurried his steps, flustering his hair. The rain crept down the back of his neck and when he reached the park, the bench that he elected to sit on was swollen with water that was seeping into his jeans, chilling his bones.  
He glanced over to the run-down shack that he hadn't seen in what seemed like a lifetime.  
At least, it had until he was here. Now it felt like That Day had been a week ago at most.  
He shouted to the dog in an attempt to call him back, but he was on the other side of the park, gallivanting on his mission to mark every single tree in the damned place. Gabriel sighed, shaking his head. The grubby WC was calling to him, drawing him in, paring his grasps at resistance away.  
He made his way over, head bowed against the wind. Just a quick look, that was all.  
The bathroom stall that it had happened in was locked. He gave it an angry kick, expecting it to be sealed off, but a shout of protest from the inside told him that it was simply in use.  
The stall next door was unoccupied, though, and he pushed the door open tentatively, kneeling down to the hole the bullet had made.  
It had clearly been filled in once or twice, but now the flesh of the wall had been pared and scratched and chiselled away, widening it. It had become a focus of graffiti, tags surrounding it. An arrow gesturing to it with a long arrow that labelled it ‘glory hole’.  
He rolled his eyes, stepping back. He had seen all that he needed to here. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see the state of the stall that his own graffiti graced. It would just make him mad, and so he turned to leave.  
The dog bounded through the door and he grinned at Apollo’s energy, leaving his near-death behind him and returning outside.  
The rain had cleared a little, the clouds parting just enough that a rainbow graced the sky.  
He smiled and clipped the dog’s leash back onto his collar.  
“Time to go home, bud,” he muttered, and he turned away from the past.


	11. Chapter 11

Gabriel knocked on the door once more, tapping his foot impatiently. What if she was out? He'd been standing there at least five minutes.  
Just as he was getting ready to give up, the door opened and a slight woman with grey hair slipped out, smiling awkwardly at him and wiping tears away from her face (Gabriel decided against pointing out to her that her face was already stained by tear tracks) before scuttling down the path with her head bowed.   
He turned to Missouri, pulling a face at her as soon as the woman was out of sight.  
“Looks like you were pretty hard on her back there,” he commented, an edge of judgement in his voice.  
“No, sugar. Her husband’s dead. Died overseas in Afghanistan- soldier at war and all. She's still all shook up. She comes to me from time to time and I set her mind at ease a little about him. Not my usual kind of deal, but she’s in need and I can help her, so why wouldn’t I? Now, you come on in, boy. How you been? Make yourself at home. Drink? Cake?”  
“You bake? Hell yes. Hello, cake!”  
“Manners,” she cautioned him, “And no, I don’t. She couldn't afford to pay me. Runs a bakery and her business has been going downhill these last few months. She skips work some days. Grief can do nasty things to a person.”  
“That's… Ironic. She can’t afford anything because of cake so she pays you in cake?”  
“Glad to see you're feeling a little better,” she remarked dryly.  
“Suppose I am,” he grinned. “But this isn't just about me. I bought you something. Christmas in a few days and all, right?”   
Trading the plastic bag for a large wedge of lemon sponge, he howled with laughter as she drew out the cheap-looking ouija board and crystal ball. Her falsely stern expression twisted into a reluctant smile.  
“I sure am glad you’re getting back to yourself a little more. You did seem like there was a little more humour in you somewhere when I met you, and here it is. I guess I can’t complain about that.”

. . . . .

Christmas had come and gone in a flurry of food and gifts and easy bickering, leaving Sam and Gabriel mildly dazed by the mess it left on their home. They’d insisted on hosting the family on Christmas morning and had instantly regretted it, unprepared for the manic rush of it all- luckily, they’d been persuaded not to take on cooking Christmas dinner, instead going to Gabriel’s father’s for it, Dean in tow. The two families had come together and for once, there wasn’t a single argument.   
In the evening, they had fallen asleep overstuffed with food and happiness, Apollo making Gabriel’s leg numb as bad festive movies played out in the background with nobody awake to turn them off.

When New Year rolled around, however, they hadn’t managed to evade cooking more party food than they’d assumed possible. Their kitchen was currently a mess of glasses, plates and baking trays. He didn’t even want to think about the unavoidable tidy-up when they woke up in the morning. The hangovers would be hard enough to deal with, let alone combining them with taking on the mountainous task of getting the house back into order.  
It was half past midnight and Gabriel was lazily curled up on the couch under layers of blankets eating leftover candy canes and watching the new-year news, a half-drunk bottle of champagne on their worn coffee table.  
“Hmm,” he mused, nestling back into Sam. “We have Christmas candy everywhere, it's a new year, I'm off medication and we finally christened this couch. I feel good.”  
He heard a dramatic sigh behind him that barely masked Sam’s laugh. “Gee, you're feeling romantic tonight.”  
“Oh, my heart! You hurt me so, Sam Winchester.”  
“I think they noticed how quickly you were rushing them home after midnight, you know,” Sam mused.  
“Oh well. They’ll live. Well worth it.”  
“Agreed,” Sam smiled, tightening his grip on Gabriel, yawning.

. . . . .

The last week had been pretty damn fantastic, really. Gabriel had been easing off from his Citalopram for a couple of weeks and to his delight he was finally free from medication.  
He hadn't even realised how much better he was feeling until he truly thought about it. His life had been so busy lately that he hadn't noticed himself changing for the better, not really. Leaving Missouri’s before Christmas had set him thinking about it. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt unable to get out of bed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt entirely flat. He couldn't remember the last time he had wanted to cry over nothing.  
Far more importantly, he couldn't remember feeling this positive about his life. Ever.  
Lately, most of his time in therapy had been spent working out his future rather than working through his past and his pains.  
He was living with his long-time boyfriend, finally out of the family home and searching for his dream job. He was growing up at last and damn did he feel good about it.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I forgot to add a a chapter last week, I'm posting two this week.

“Now, Gabe, we gotta talk real important today,” Benny warned. “I think you're ready to go.”  
“What?”  
“I think you're ready to leave therapy. You can still call me and book in any time, but we're ready to stop this being regular, like. You're coping way better and you're making positive changes. I think it's about time you got out there, huh?”  
“You- you're serious? If this is a joke I might kill you.”  
“This good or bad for ya?”  
“Good, bad, terrifying - hell if I know! We've talked about this, I get that, I just… I don't know.”  
“You're off your medication and doing just fine. You even went to that park a couple months back. When was the last time you felt like you couldn't cope? Are you still suicidal? I'm not gonna be able to cure you, Gabriel. It takes time. You’re gonna get there without me the rest of the way. If you need to book in from time to time, I’m still here for ya. Understand?”  
Gabriel just stared at him, processing the information for a second before nodding.  
“And look - if I discharge you now and give you a good reference about yer health, it’ll help you out a little with… Well. I got somethin’ for ya.”  
Taking the paper from Benny, he stared at it without processing it for several seconds, too overwhelmed with the revelation of what Benny had just told him. He refocused quickly, beginning to read.

‘Interested in a job in psychiatric care?  
Napoleon Adolescent Ward is an inpatient psychiatric care facility for young people between the ages of 12 and 17 requiring mental health care for a range of problems such as depression, anxiety, personality and eating disorders, amongst many other difficulties.  
You must be willing to work unsociable hours and be able to offer empathetic care for young people as well as have an interest in partaking in a range of activities and spending quality time with our young people.   
Experience in care work will aid your application but is not a requirement. Basic training will be provided if your application is accepted.  
CMHC Group will be able to help facilitate future training in order to go on to careers such as psychiatry or nursing and will fund qualifications if adequate potential and commitment is seen in the candidates.  
We look forward to working with you.’

“You - is this a job application?”  
“Sure is!” Benny grinned. “Napoleon’s across town - 20 minutes, say? Good reputation, solid place. I know a lot who've worked there. I thought pr’aps if you're ready and you wanna then we could fill out your application form today?”  
“Oh, hells yes!” Gabriel grinned. 

. . . . .

“Sam!” Gabriel yelled impatiently through the letterbox. Sam hadn’t been at home and his phone had been off, so Gabriel’s next port of call was the Winchester’s family home. Sam still visited Dean often- the move hadn’t broken the brothers’ bond.  
“Hey, hey! Sh’up! It's like, what - half nine?” He heard a grumble come from the house. It wasn't Sam and he rolled his eyes in annoyance.  
“It's almost eleven,” a woman’s voice replied loudly.  
“It's what?” Dean yelled back in shock as he swung the door open.  
“Uh… Dean? Clothes on? Please?”  
“Oh- sorry!” Dean grinned. Gabriel didn't bother protest that he didn't look sorry in the slightest.  
“Who's the chick?” Gabriel asked, gesturing to the stairs where the woman must have been. As he spoke, he heard the shower turn on. “Sorry I stopped you from joining her up there,” he added.  
“Girlfriend, actually,” Dean smiled, looking proud of himself. “Carmen. She's great.”  
“Wait - Dean Winchester has a girlfriend? Like, girlfriend girlfriend? How long?”  
“About a month. And rude. What you round here for, anyway? How are you doing, Gabriel?”  
“Sam's not home. Thought maybe he’d be visiting you or something. Not answering his phone - hey! What do you know?” He demanded, picking up on the guilty secrecy on Dean's face.  
“Try your dad’s place. In fact, I’ll drive you. We're headed over too. Don't you dare tell Sam I told you. He asks, you arrived same time as me. He left a note for you saying what to do, he said - didn't you check the house over? Said he left it on the kitchen table.”  
“Why are you going to my dad’s?”   
“Nope. No way are you getting that from me. Sit down. Uh, TV remote’s here and I'm gonna go get dressed. I don't think underwear is a great outfit to go to my brother in law’s family’s place.”  
“They weren't a good idea to greet said brother-in-law in, either,” Gabriel remarked, smiling to himself at the label. It made him feel like something more than Sam’s boyfriend, a term that sounded childish after all the time he and Sam had been together. He supposed that they had been together close to seven years; that was longer than plenty of married couples around.  
He liked the sound of the phrase.   
He liked the sound of marrying Sam.  
Flicking channels on Dean’s TV, he filed away the thought to mull over later. Now, though, he wanted to try to work out what the hell this gathering he hadn't known of was about.  
That and find out more about the mysterious woman who had managed to get Dean Winchester committed.

. . . . .

“I heard you're applying for a new job,” Cas stated by means of greeting.   
“Hey - how did you know?”  
“Sam said your therapist called him and told him that he was going to help you get this job. He wanted Sam’s confirmation that it was what you wanted. I have faith in you, Gabriel,” Castiel smiled sincerely. Gabriel pulled him into a hug.  
“That what this party’s about, huh? Me applying to a job I might not even get?”  
“Nope,” Sam replied as he walked in. “This is celebrating you leaving therapy. It's a ‘we're proud of you whether you get the job or not because you've worked so hard and we love you’ party.”  
“Wow,” Gabriel grinned. “That's kinda long, huh? Why don't we rename it?” he set Castiel free from the embrace, turning to look at Sam instead.  
“What do you suggest?”  
“How about an ‘I'm totally getting a blow job later’ party?”  
“I hate you,” Cas told him. “And I'm still in the room.”  
“Why is that, huh?” Gabriel teased him gently. “Way to ruin the moment, Cassie.”  
“I live here and I'm supposed to be bringing you inside. We have Mexican food. And churros.”  
“Churros are Mexican,” Sam protested.  
“That’s true. But to Gabriel, they are in a whole other league,” Cas smiled. “Jazmin said her recipe is way better than any American ‘Mexican’ chain, by the way. She’s been cooking half of the night and then she got up this morning and made more. You two just… Come through in a minute, right?”  
Gabriel waited for Cas to leave before kissing Sam.  
“I am though, right?” Gabriel queried, his tone only just joking, picking up on his earlier words.  
“We’ll see. Behave, though. I think you just scarred your brother for life. We have to sit through dinner with him, you know.”  
“He’ll be fine,” Gabriel shrugged. “That a yes, then?”  
“Yes, Mr. One-Track-Mind. You might not have any shame, though, but the rest of us do. Where's my brother, anyway? He’s supposed to be here by now.”  
“I’m pretty sure I saw him out front when I got here,” Gabriel lied, “I think he went round the back. He has his own surprise for you by the looks of things.”  
“Yeah?”  
“Your brother might finally be growing up.”  
“I'll believe that when I see it. Now, shall we get in there? Jazmin is right, her churros are seriously amazing.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wish I'd had a HCA like Gabriel around when I was in hospital. I guess I wrote him here as someone I really could have done with. Besides, I like that he gets to help someone now, considering how this thing started.

Napoleon Adolescent Unit  
Lawrence Farm Hospital  
30 Church Road  
66045  
Lawrence  
Kansas

Wednesday 24th February 2016

Mr. Gabriel Novak,

Further to our recent interview regarding the position of health care assistant on Napoleon Ward with Lawrence Farm Hospital, I am writing to you to confirm our offer of employment.  
Please find enclosed your contract of employment. Please review the document and return your signed copy to us at your earliest convenience.   
We look forward to you joining the team. In the meantime, if you have any questions regarding the position, please contact us via the information provided on our website.  
Yours sincerely,

Brigit Fowler,  
Lawrence Farm Hospital

 

. . . . .

“Okay, looks like we're throwing you in at the deep end tonight,” the sandy-haired Englishman commented. “Andy and Ava are both having a tricky time right now. Ava’s got her snack to come yet and it’s looking like that's going to be extra tough for her. Andy’s had some rough news today and he’s freaked out.”  
“What happened to him?” Gabriel asked, biting his lip nervously. He'd already been told that he would be shadowing Balthazar tonight - that would involve two hours on two-to-one observation with a patient and a total four hours on general observation rounds. He would have a one-hour break and the rest of the time would be spent learning as much as he could from the other staff members. In the back of his mind, he knew that he was working a 10-hour shift with only six of them spent fully occupied by work, but it sounded like he would be kept busy for sure.  
“His mum died. His birth mum, that is; he's adopted. He only found out about her three weeks ago and he was going to meet her next week. She's what got him in here - he was already depressed, but finding out his birth mother wasn't who he thought gave him a breakdown.”  
“Sheesh. How old is this kid?”  
“He's 14.”  
“Fucking hell. Life sure has been a bag of dicks to him.”  
“Yep. We've got him on a one-to-one during the day, meaning he needs someone with him at all times. Something happened just before they handed us over, though, and they want him on two-to-one for now, just to be sure that he will be safe. We won't be doing that for at least a few hours, though, so you've got some time to settle in first.”  
“Uh… Sounds good?” Gabriel agreed dubiously, feigning a smile.  
“Of course it does,” Balthazar smirked back. “Welcome on board, Gabriel.”

. . . . .

“Hi, Ava,” Gabriel smiled overly-brightly at the frail girl with the warm brown eyes.  
“Hi,” she whispered back forlornly. “Um. Sorry about… This.”  
“Hey, hey! You don't need to worry about me here. I'm a big boy, right? You never had to apologise to me for having a hard time,” he reassured her, thinking quickly before he decided how best to help her. “Now, shall we strike up a deal? If you take a bite, I'll tell you something embarrassing about me. Believe me, I have some pretty stupid stories behind me. I bet you I can make you smile. One bite at a time and we go from there, okay?”  
Ava nodded, scraping her teeth against the cereal bar in her hand. Chewing tentatively at the shards of food in her mouth, she looked up at him fearfully, as if she expected him to tell her that she hadn't done enough. She had barely left a mark on the bar, but he wasn’t going to discipline her for doing her best.  
“Okay, so I was fifteen at the time and it was the day I first met my boyfriend. I'd changed schools - full disclosure, I got expelled from the last place - and I walked into class and saw this tall, gorgeous boy. The first thing I did, having been staring at him, was fall over a chair. I landed awkwardly and broke my arm. I had to leave school, but he came and sat with me in the medical room while I waited for my dad to drive by and take me to the ER. I didn't tell him I'd been staring, but I'm pretty sure that he knew. Of course, the first thing I did when I got back was have him write his number on my cast,” Gabriel reminisced, a small puff of laughter leaving his lips at the thought of him own stupidity. Looking hopefully at Ava, he was glad to see a tiny smile. It was as frail as her skinny legs that shook anxiously against the floor, but it was a smile nonetheless. When she realised he was finished, she took a slightly bigger bite, looking to him for reassurance once more.  
“What's his name?”  
“Sam,” Gabriel smiled. “Let me think… Okay, got one. When I was thirteen I, walked into my brother’s room when he had a girl over. Last time I ever went near his room. I didn't know Lucifer owned a whip and cuffs until then.”  
“Okay, that's gross. Your brother? Ew.”  
They continued like that, Ava shuddering at each bite and Gabriel wracking his brains to make Ava laugh at his expense.   
“Gabriel,” she whispered when she was done. “Thank you. For that.”  
“No problem, kiddo,” he grinned. “No better way to start my new job than to humiliate myself in front of someone, right?”  
“When I was seven I walked into a sex shop by accident. Dragged my grandfather in saying I wanted to look in all of the shops, didn't understand why he was keen to avoid that one,” she offered up shyly, grinning when Gabriel laughed.  
“Pleased to meet you, Ava,” he smiled warmly.

. . . . .

By the time his break rolled around at one, Gabriel was exhausted. All but two of the kids were asleep - a girl named Amy who had dreams about her mother’s abuse that apparently woke her most nights at least once or twice, and Andy.  
Andy had been unable to settle down all night. For a while, he'd inadvertently been keeping the other kids awake, unable to keep himself from crying loudly. At one point, he tried to barge his way through the main door, determined that he was going home tonight and that he couldn't take it on the ward another second. A string of distressed incidents had been chasing him all night and, apparently, for most of the day, getting the alarm pulled multiple times. He knew it was in Andy’s best interests, but he couldn’t help but feel awful for the amount of times Andy had been restrained.  
Finally, exhausted, he'd began calming down little by little. Currently he was in his room, curled into the blankets and staring at the wall.  
Gabriel felt bad for feeling so decayed by mental and physical weariness, but it wasn't an emotion he could control. Nothing could have prepared him for the pain he would see in these kids, even if he knew how some of it felt first hand. Most of the staff took naps on their break and he was keen to follow suit with the trend and crash for a while himself, but first he needed to call Sam and fill him in. He'd been promised that Sam would pull an all-nighter in honour of his first shift falling at night, meaning that Gabriel could phone home at any time. He’d tried to persuade him otherwise, but Sam had insisted.  
“Hello?” Came the tired voice from the other end of the phone and Gabriel realised with a wave of guilt that Sam had caved and gone to bed. “Gabe? How's it going?”  
“It's okay. It's… It's very intense, which I guess could have been expected, but it's okay. The kids are sweet and the guy I'm tailing for the night is a decent laugh. I helped a kid through her snack time by telling her a dumb story about me for every bite she ate.”  
“Did you mention your arm?” came the laugh from the other end of the phone and he rolled his eyes.  
“Yes, I mentioned my arm.”  
“And the time with the ostrich?” Sam asked, and Gabriel could practically feel the amused smirk through the phone.  
“Yes - and I didn't expect it to be so damned violent! Why'd you have to frame that photo anyway?” He grumbled. “I think her favourite was new year when we were 17 and I decided to give that posh kid what he deserved. ‘Cept it wasn't actually him and he was posh enough to have a statue in his house.”  
“Telling ‘em drunk stories. Real professional,” Sam mocked.  
“Yeah, well, she's 14. Not like she's gonna get me the sack, is it?”  
“14? Christ. That's - wow, that's harsh.”  
“Life's a bitch,” he agreed. “I'm gonna let you get back to sleep now so-”  
“I wasn't asleep, Gabriel,” Sam protested.  
“Lying is wrong, Sam,” he scolded playfully. “Come on now, get your ass back to bed. I'll be home at nine and I fully plan on having my meals cooked and brought to bed so I can sleep this damned night shift off.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I missed a couple of chapters but the next one is the last one, so I'll post it on the next Saturday like I usually do.

“Happy anniversary, babycakes,” Gabriel grinned, rolling over and half onto Sam.  
“Never call me that again,” Sam muttered tiredly, but he leant into Gabriel and kissed him slowly, lovingly. They stayed in bed making out until they were both a little short of breath and both wide awake. When Sam finally conceded that he had to pull away from Gabriel, he smiled at him dazedly. “Happy anniversary, Gabe.”  
“We don't have to get up just yet, you know,” Gabriel hinted with a sly grin. “Plenty of-” he was silenced by Sam kissing him once more.

. . . . .

Gabriel grinned at Sam as they entered the restaurant. It was the first time that they had been back since his birthday - in fact, it was coming up to a year now. He realised with a start that at that moment, he felt totally comfortable looking at the park.  
They only waited a few moments before they were seated at their reservation, and Gabriel quickly ordered champagne for him and Sam.  
“So, Sammy. Happy seven-years-since-dumb-fifteen-year-old-me-asked-you-to-go-official,” he grinned at Sam before sipping his glass.  
“You're still dumb, you know,” Sam mused jokingly, “but I love you. Happy anniversary.”  
Gabriel hooked his foot around Sam’s leg under that table, holding his hand above it. He couldn't believe he was lucky enough to be living with Sam seven years down the line.  
As teenagers, they had only dated for three weeks before Gabriel asked Sam to be his boyfriend. Now, though, Gabriel wasn't sure that he could fully remember being the dumbly in love kid gazing longingly at a teen Sam Winchester’s firm ass and accidentally losing himself in his pretty eyes. He certainly couldn't quite believe that his childhood had been entirely Sam-free. It felt to him as though they were bound to one another, destined to find one another and to stay in harmony for the rest of both of their lives.  
He couldn't imagine himself being without Sam Winchester again in his life and he couldn't believe that he had almost been taken from Sam by depression. As much as he couldn't imagine being without Sam, he knew with certainty that Sam felt the same way towards him.  
He was so glad that he'd beaten it down and stayed with Sam.  
“Thank you so much for this past year, Sam. For staying with me. Helping me through and all that jazz. I can't imagine living without you and I'm so glad that I get to make more memories with you.”  
“I can't imagine life without you either, you soppy idiot,” Sam smiled. “Of course I stayed with you. How could I leave you? You needed me. And I needed you, too; still do.”

. . . . .

Gabriel sighed into the dark, rolling his eyes up at the ceiling.   
Doing his best to squirm away from out under Sam's arm without waking him, he stretched over back to his side of the bed. Leaning over, he scoured the carpet with one hand, the other fisted into the bedsheets in an attempt not to fall out of bed. Finding what he was searching for, he grabbed his shirt.  
Pulling himself up from the floor, he set the shirt over his bedside lamp, flicking the switch. The stripes set beams across the room, the light tinted rose by the red lines of fabric.  
He turned to Sam, smiling softly at his peaceful expression.   
Gabriel propped his pillows up; settling back down again, he studied Sam. The soft lines of a frown were already beginning to stain Sam’s forehead, something that Gabriel hadn't noticed until now. Clearly, Sam had found recent months more difficult than Gabriel had realised and he wanted to kick himself for being so self-centred.   
Those lines were relaxed now, Sam's face calm and contented. Gabriel felt a sudden urge to wake him and tell him just how much he loved him.  
But Sam's peace shouldn't be disturbed. So he leant over and kissed Sam’s forehead where the faint worry lines had somehow crept into his skin.  
“I love you,” he murmured against Sam’s skin, a confession.  
He dropped a gentle kiss onto each of Sam’s closed eyelids.  
“I love you,” he whispered, a promise.  
He pressed his lips against Sam’s slightly parted ones, breathing in the soft sleepy wisps of breath.  
“I love you.”  
When he drew away from Sam, he could have sworn that Sam sighed happily, that his lips turned up a little.   
He draped himself over Sam, head resting on his chest. He kissed the skin of Sam’s collarbone - not out of lust as he had so many times before, but as a passing over of the love that he didn't know how to speak.  
“I love you, Sam Winchester,” he repeated once more for good measure, smiling softly as he spoke through a yawn in a wave of sudden warm exhaustion, the kind that would wash over you after a huge meal.

. . . . .

“Gabriel,” Sam whispered urgently. “Get up. I need to get ready for work.”  
Gabriel groaned as he lifted his eyes groggily, barely slitted open.  
“Hey, why is the lamp on?” Sam puzzled, finally managing to push Gabriel off of him and getting up, stretching out his arms as he yawned. Gabriel stared up at him, admiring his strong shoulders as they flexed, the taut muscles in his back, his firm ass.   
“I love you,” he told Sam, smiling as he turned back to look at Gabriel, bemused expression on his face, “hmm. You look good, handsome.”  
“I love you too. You have drool on your face.”  
“Gee, Sammy. Way to show me you care,” he huffed, but he laughed. “Get dressed, lawyer-man.”


	15. Chapter 15

This wasn't exactly a good day for Gabriel to be going into work. Day after his 23rd birthday and he was more than a little hungover. But it was more than that. It was a year since he almost put a bullet in his brain.  
But still, he loved his job. Helping out the kids was great. They deserved so much more than the circumstances life had dumped them in and if he could help them in any way, he wanted in.   
Besides, on good days, the place could be hilarious. Bored teenage pranks- his kind of scene.  
He had to check a new kid in that morning, though. Her name was Marin and she had burns all over her, some bandages seeping from the open wounds they hid away. She'd tried to burn her house down with her in it and she wouldn't tell anyone why.   
“Okay, kid. Paperwork’s up. Now, I want to have a chat with you. The nurse can leave now, just you and me,” he spoke, doing his best to sound friendly and optimistic. The girl simply shrugged, waiting it out for the click of the door behind the other member of staff.  
“Okay. So you want to know why I did it?”  
“I want to know whatever you want to tell me, Marin. No pressure. I can promise you that- I’m never going to force you to talk if you can’t.”  
“I can't do it any more, Gabriel,” she admitted. “Christ, that sounds weird. You're a nurse or something, right? Shouldn't I be calling you Doctor?”  
“I'm a student nurse and health care assistant - I hang out with you. I talk to you. I treat you like a person- bet there aren't an awful lot who do that right now. So Gabriel, okay?”  
“I just- this year has been too much. My brother died and, well…” She broke off, blinking back tears. “I don’t want this. I don’t want to live. I know that it sounds selfish, leaving my family childless and all. I know they lost him too, I get that. But I can’t stand it any more.”  
Gabriel wasn't sure what to say to that. He realised that while he'd been getting better, she'd been getting worse. Today, Sam had sent him off to work with a worried glance. He'd walked past the park and stopped and stared at the run-down hut the toilets were in. He felt a tug of such sadness that he could barely breathe and he realised that it was how he had felt in the depths of his depression. It was how these kids felt right now.   
The feeling had passed and he had continued to work feeling a confusing mix of joy for his own progress and sorrow for the teens he was caring for.  
He'd arrived at the hospital and bitched to Balthazar. He'd confided long ago in the nurse about why he'd chosen the job, and so the guy’d known that he needed a chance to talk it out from time to time. Since then, Balthazar had become something of a mentor to him. His condescending humour went well with Gabriel’s sarcasm and when Gabriel had begun studying to become a nurse himself, Balthazar had been selected to help him once more.  
It took him a moment to reply, but in the end, he elected for the words that Sam had chosen several months before.   
“You know, it might not count for much, but this last year has been hard. Your life changed in this year, right? So who is there to say that next year won't be the best you've been?”  
Marin shrugged noncommittally, but a small, nervous smile ghosted across her face.

. . . . .

“Are you sure you want to go out tonight?” Sam asked him, eyeing him nervously. “We could just stay in, watch a movie or something.”  
Gabriel nodded, swallowing his own nerves back.  
“I wanted to make today something positive,” he replied.   
So far as Sam knew, they were just going out to dinner. Gabriel had phoned the restaurant the night before and booked, only telling Sam earlier that day. He didn't tell Sam just why he was taking him out, though.  
He groped his jacket pocket subtly to check that he had what he needed.  
“Okay, Gabe. Let's go,” Sam smiled.  
Inside his head, Gabriel rehearsed his proposal speech.  
He wanted to make today mean something other than the day he almost died and, after seven years together, the time had never felt more right.  
“Sam Winchester, I love you more than I have ever loved before. You have supported me through so much and I can honestly say I want to spend the rest of my life in your ridiculously gorgeous arms. So will you marry me?” Gabriel practised to himself.  
“Gabe? Did you just…?” Sam asked, eyes wide with joyful wonder, and Gabriel realised with a start that he'd been whispering the words out loud.   
He couldn't help but feel angry at himself. He'd had it planned out perfectly. He wanted Sam to think that they were simply out for dinner. Then he would take him for a walk across the park and drop to one knee under the birch that had been adorned with fairy lights. The tree seemed mystically beautiful and Gabriel knew that Sam would have loved it. He’d had this planned to a T and now he’d ruined it.  
But now he couldn't take back what he’d let slip, and so he bowed down on bended knee in front of Sam on their messy bedroom floor, reaching into the silky lining of his dinner jacket and pulling out the velvet box.  
Opening the box with shaking fingers, he shyly offered Sam the ring, an intricately carved wide white gold band with a swirling pattern and an emerald set into the metal. On the inside of the band, the words ‘marry me’ were carved in slanted letters.  
“Sammich,” Gabriel grinned nervously, reaching up to take Sam’s hand. “I was meant to do this under that gorgeous tree at the park after dinner, but since I cocked it up, let's do this. That was my speech. I love you like crazy. Fancy getting hitched some time?”  
Sam almost snatched the ring free from the box in his eagerness to slide it onto his ring finger. Before he did, though, he held it to the dim light, admiring it with eyes that we're starting to look suspiciously misted by tears.  
“That sounds good to me,” Sam replied, smile bright and beautiful. “Gabriel, I- yes. Yes, yes, yes. I love you. Marry me.”  
“It was me asking you that, Samsquatch,” Gabriel grinned, standing and pulling Sam into an fiercely excited hug.  
“I love you,” Sam repeated, his voice stunned, into Gabriel’s slightly damp hair, not quite dried from his shower.  
“I can cancel the reservation if you want. I only want to spend time with you right now, Sam.”  
“Only got one thing on your mind, huh? You definitely won't be wearing white.”  
“I didn't mean like that, Sam,” Gabriel laughed.  
“No? Cancel it, because I do.”  
“Oh really?” Gabriel purred into Sam’s neck. “Remind me to propose to you more often.”  
“Shut up and call them,” Sam laughed.  
“Rude!” Gabriel exclaimed as he grabbed his phone, finishing the call quickly as quickly as he could. Turning to Sam, he smiled softly, admiring his boyfriend’s – his fiancés – face. He was a lucky man and he didn't know if he'd ever felt more happy than he did here, right now, with his beautiful, beautiful Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I've been meaning to post this chapter for at least a month. I'm stupid. I'm sorry. Forgive me.  
> Okay, folks, that's it! This shit show of bad writing and stress is OVER!


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